IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIf   STR£ET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  )4S80 

(716)  872-4503 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 

1980 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
oriQine!  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'i!  lui  a  6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peuc-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bit!iographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mdthode  normaJe  de  filmage 
sont  indiquds  ci-dessous. 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


D 


D 

□ 


D 
D 


n 


Couverture  endommag^e 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur^e  et/ou  pelliculde 


I      I    Cover  title  missing/ 


Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  g^ographiques  en  couleur 


Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


I      I    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Relid  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliute  seir^e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  int6rieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutdes 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  dtait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  dtd  filmdes. 


D 
D 
D 
D 
D 
D 
D 

n 
n 


Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagdes 

Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaurdes  et/ou  pelliculdes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  d^colordes,  tachetdes  ou  piqudes 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d6tach6es 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  print  varies/ 
Quality  indgale  de  ('impression 

includes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplementaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  ddition  dispcnible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6x6  filmdes  d  nouveau  de  fapon  d 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


D 


Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppl6mentaires; 


Q 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film6  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqud  ci-dessous. 


lOX 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

y 

12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


a 

Stalls 
IS  du 
nodifier 
ir  una 
ilmaga 


BS 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Douglas  Library 
Queen's  University 

The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — ^>  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED "),  or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 

Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  tco  farge  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  loft  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


L'exemplaire  film6  fut  reproduit  grdce  d  la 
g6n6rosit£  de: 

Douglas  Library 
Queen's  University 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  at 
de  la  nettetd  de  l'exemplaire  filmd,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 

Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimde  sont  film6s  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  salon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  film^s  en  commenpant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  appara?tra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
filmds  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clichd,  il  est  fiimd  d  partir 
de  Tangle  sup6rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaiia.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mdthode. 


errata 

I  to 

i 

i  pelure, 

on  d 


n 


32X 


1 

2 

3 

^ooU  6p  JFranli  ^kllta. 


1 


LAND  OF  THE  LINGERING  SNOW.  Chronicles 
of  a  Stroller  in  New  England  from  January  to 
June.     i6nio,  $1.25. 

AT  THE  NORTH  OF  BEARCAMP  WATER. 
Chronicles  of  a  Stroller  in  New  England  from  July 
to  December.     i6mo,  ;f  1.25. 

FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY,  and  other  Papers. 
i6mo,  $1.25. 

CHOCORUA'S  TENANTS.  Poems.  With  8  Illus- 
trations.    i6mo,  $1.00. 

HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
Boston  and  New  York. 


i 


FROM   BLOMIDON    TO   SMOKY 


AND   OTHER  PAPERS 


BY 


FRANK  BOLLES 


BOSTON    AND   NEW  YORK 

HOUCxHTON   MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

<3El>c  Kibcrj^ibe  pre?>'  Cnmbriboe 


■■■■Kyi 


^i.4?,.-Bt 


Copyright,  1894, 
By  ELIZABETH  QUINCT  BOLLES. 

All  rights  reserved. 


l'X-2?&2a3 


NOTE. 

The  following  papers,  with  the  exception  of 
the  first  four,  which  are  Mr.  BoUes's  latest  work, 
are  arranged  in  the  order  in  which  they  were 
written  and  first  published  in  different  periodi- 
cals between  the  years  1890  and  1894. 

They  are  now  reprinted  in  their  original  form, 
although  this  involves  a  certain  amount  of  repe- 
tition which  would  doubtless  have  been  avoided 
had  Mr.  Bolles  himself  revised  them. 

Barred  Owls  in  Captivity  and  the  two  papers 
that  follow  appeared  originally  in  "  The  Auk  " 
Bird  Traits  in  "  The  New  England  Magazine," 
the  next  two  as  well  as  the  first  four  in  "  The 
Atlantic  Monthly,"  Ways  of  the  Owl  and  the 
two  closing  papers  in  "The  Popular  Science 
Monthly." 

E.  Q.  B. 


58590 


CONTENTS. 


PAcn 

From  Blomidon  to  Smoky l 

Inqonish,  by  Land  and  Sea 38 

The  Home  op  Glooscap 56 

August  Bibds  in  Cape  Breton      ....  82 

Barred  Owls  in  Captivity        .....  106 

Sapsuckers  and  their  Guests        ,       ,        .       .  131 

Young  Sapsuckers  in  Captivity        ■        ,       .        .  156 

Ways  op  the  Owl 176 

Bird  Traits 206 

Individuality  in  Birds 219 

Birds  at  Yule-Tide     ....,,,  237 

Up  the  Chimney        .......  247 

The  Humming- Birds  of  Chooobua     ....  260 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 

Against  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  with  its  fogs  and 
turbulent  waters,  Nova  Scotia  presents  a  bold 
front  of  bastion  and  moat  combined.  The  bas- 
tion is  called  North  Mountain,  and  is  a  well- 
wooded  ridge  running  parallel  to  the  southeast 
shore  of  the  Bay  of  Fundy  for  nearly  its  entire 
length.  The  moat  consists  of  St.  Mary's  Bay, 
the  Annapolis  Basin,  and  the  Basin  of  Minas, 
and  their  tributary  rivers,  all  lying  within  the 
line  of  North  Mountain.  Parallel  with  both 
bastion  and  moat,  and  presiding  over  the  well- 
tilled  fields  which  border  the  several  basins,  is 
South  Mountain,  from  whose  height  can  be  ob- 
tained the  finest  views  of  the  land  of  Evan- 
geline, and  its  impressive  central  figure,  the 
spruce-covered,  storm-haunted  Blomidon. 

When  we  landed  at  Yarmouth,  far  down  near 
the  southern  tip  of  Nova  Scotia,  and  saw  the 
monotonous  country  which  is  characteristic  of 
that  part  of  the  province,  something  very  much 
like  gloom  settled  upon  our  spirits.  We  took 
an  early  morning  train,  and  started  eastward 
and  northward  towards  Blomidon.     Rain,  miles 


FRO,}f  liLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


r 


of  larch  and  spruce  swamp,  burned  woodland 
given  up  to  tangles  of  fireweed  and  briers,  and 
cheerless,  rock -rimmed  ponds  in  low  woods 
haunted  us  until  we  reached  Digby.  True,  our 
escape  from  the  railway  at  Meteghan  station, 
and  our  five  hours  with  Mr.  Sheeiian,  the  royal 
mail  carrier  and  hospitable  hotel  keeper,  bright- 
ened us  somewhat ;  but  there  was  nothing  at 
the  railway  to  tell  us  of  the  quaint  French  set- 
tlement of  Meteghan  which  lay  concealed,  be- 
yond ridge  and  woods,  on  the  pleasant  shores  of 
St.  Mary's  Bay.  As  we  left  Digby,  late  in  the 
afternoon  of  this  first  long  day  in  Nova  Scotia, 
the  clouds  broke,  the  setting  sun  struggled  for 
the  mastery  of  the  sky,  and  all  the  heavens  were 
filled  with  shifting  masses  of  storm  and  charging 
columns  of  golden  light.  The  bank  of  vapor 
which  had  rested  upon  the  Annapolis  Basin  at 
North  Mountain  —  vapor  brewed,  no  doubt,  in 
the  Bay  of  Fundy  —  suddenly  lifted,  and  we 
saw  under  it  not  only  the  vivid  greens  of  forest 
and  field  on  the  mountain,  but  Digby  Gut,  a 
narrow,  steep-walled  cleft  in  the  mountain  lead- 
ing straight  out  to  'he  golden  glory  of  the  bay 
of  storms.  Through  that  rift  in  the  hill  ro- 
mance and  the  French  had  sailed  in  as  long  ago 
as  the  first  years  of  the  seventeenth  century ;  and 
though  the  French  sailed  out  again,  romance  re- 
mained behind  to  dwell  forever  in  Port  Royal's 
placid  basin. 


FROM  liLOMIDON  TO  SM0K7.  3 

As   our   train   neared  Port  Royal,  long  ago 
called  Annapolis,  and  rolled  along  the  southern 
shore  of  the  basin,  the  beauty  of  the  scene  in- 
creased, thanks  largely  to  the  brilliant  effects  of 
cloud-masses   and  an  ardent  setting  sun.     The 
mountain  seemed  high,  its  top  not  being  clearly 
defined,  and  the  wild  scenery  near  Bear  River^ 
where   the   train   passes    over    a  high   curved 
trestle,  became   doubly  striking   in   the   sunset 
lights.     Every  few  rods  a  blue  heron  flew  from 
the   sands   and   flapped   away  from   the  train. 
Marvelous  flocks  of  peep  rose,  careened,  flashing 
like  sibber,  wheeled,  and  alighted  once  more  on 
good  feeding-ground.    Shadows  nestled  amongst 
the  weirs   running  out  at  short  intervals  from 
the   shore ;  darkness   began   to   gather   in   the 
valleys   and   the   woods,  and  soon  we   reached 
Annapolis   with   its    ancient    earthworks,    and 
found  something  akin  to  comfort  in  its  best  but 
unpretentious  inn. 

It  was  on  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day,  our 
second  on  the  peninsula,  that  I  saw  Blomidon, 
—  saw  it  first  from  the  Kentville  slopes,  and 
again,  after  we  had  followed  down  the  dashine*. 
dancing  Gaspereaux  for  several  miles,  from  the 
heights  above  Wolfville.  The  Gaspereaux  Val- 
ley had  been  charming  by  reason  of  its  wooded 
hiUsides,  in  parts  holding  the  river  closely  be- 
tween dark  banks  of  spruce  and  fir,  but  later 


4  FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 

giving  it  freer  range  througli  well-tilled  mead- 
ows and  undulating  fields.  Evening,  heralded 
by  rolling'  masses  of  dark  clouds,  seemed  to  be 
upon  us,  as  our  horses  slowly  climbed  the  steep 
slope  of  the  Gaspereaux  back  of  Wolfville. 
The  air  grew  cold,  and  when  we  reached  the 
crest  of  the  ridge  a  strong  wind  wrestled  with 
us,  and  carried  a  chill  from  Fundy  to  the  very 
marrow  of  our  bones.  Then  it  vas  that,  gaining 
the  edge  of  the  northern  slope,  we  suddenly  saw 
the  marvelous  panoranra  of  the  Cornwallis  Val- 
ley, North  Mountain,  Blomidon,  the  Basin  of 
Min?.s,  the  Acadian  dike  lands  including  Grand 
Pre,  and  the  mouth  of  the  Gaspereaux,  spread 
before  us  under  the  sunset  lights  and  the  em- 
phatic contrasts  of  speeding  wind  clouds. 

The  tide  was  out,  and  miles  of  basin  bottom 
lay  ?*ed  and  shining  in  the  sunlight.  The  dike 
lands  were  intensely  green,  the  sands,  or  mud, 
all  shades  of  terra  cotta,  the  shallows  strange 
tones  of  purple,  and  the  deeper  waters  varying 
shades  of  blue.  Color  ran  riot  in  meadow,  mud, 
and  bay.  Above  and  beyond  all,  directly  in 
front  of  us,  miles  away,  at  the  extremity  of  a 
grand  sweap  of  shore  which  curved  towards  it 
from  our  left,  was  a  dark  red  bluff  crowned 
with  evergreens.  Its  profile  was  commanding. 
From  the  edge  of  its  forest  it  fell  one  quarter  of 
the  way  to  the  sea  in  a  line  perfectly  perpen- 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


5 


dicular.  Then,  relenting  a  little,  the  line  sloped 
to  the  waves  at  a  gentler  angle,  but  one  still  too 
steep  for  human  foot  to  ascend.  This  was 
IBlomidon,  simple,  majestic,  inspiring. 

The  distant  northern  shore  of  the  basin  was 
plainly  indicated  by  a  line  of  blue  mountains, 
the  Cobequid  range,  and  we  knew  that  between 
us  and  itb  rugged  coast-line  the  mighty,  pent-up 
tides  of  Fundy  raced  each  day  and  night  into 
the  comparative  calm  of  Minas,  and  spread 
themselves  there  over  the  red  sands  and  up  to 
the  dikes  which  the  Acadian  peasants  had  built 
round  about  Grand  Pre.  After  receiving  the 
image  of  Blomidon  into  the  deepest  corners  of 
our  memories,  we  looked  next  at  Grand  Pre, 
and,  looking,  gave  up  all  previous  impressions 
of  it  gained  from  Longfellow's  poem.  The 
Grp  d  Pre  which  he  imagined  and  painted 
without  ever  visiting  the  Gaspereaux  country  is 
not  the  dike  land  of  reality.  Both  are  charm- 
ing, but  around  the  vast  level  of  green  grass 
which  lay  below  us  there  were  no  whispering 
pines  or  hemlocks,  no  suggestion  of  the  primeval 
forest.  To  the  low  undulating  or  level  fields 
which  bordered  the  Gaspereaux,  the  Pereaux, 
the  Grand  Habitant,  and  other  rivers  of  this 
region,  the  Acadian  farmers  added  by  degrees 
marsh  lands  naturally  swept  by  the  tides,  but 
from  which  they  carefully  and  permanently  ex- 


6 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


\ 


eluded  all  salt  water.  Longfellow's  picture  is 
of  salt  meadows  flooded  annually  by  the  sea, 
and  surrounded  by  a  forest  country,  romantic 
in  character.  We  saw  forests  far  away  on 
Blomidon,  and  back  of  us  in  the  upper  reaches 
of  the  Gaspereaux;  but  near  the  Basin  of 
Minas  and  the  dike  country  of  Grand  Pre  the 
apple-tree  and  the  willow  are,  in  this  generation 
at  least,  kings  among  trees.  To  flood  Grand 
Pre  with  salt  water  would  be  to  carry  ruin  and 
desolation  to  its  fertile  acres,  and  sorrow  to  the 
hearts  of  its  thrifty  owners.  Its  best  lands  are 
worth  four  hundred  dollars  an  acre,  and  require 
no  enrichment.  When  the  sea  floods  them,  as 
it  occasionally  does,  owing  to  the  breaking  of  a 
dike,  three  years  are  required  to  bring  the  land 
back  to  even  fair  condition. 

The  next  afternoon  a  pair  of  Kentville  horses 
carried  us  speedily  towards  Blomidon.  We 
crossed  the  Grand  Habitant  or  Cornwallis  River 
at  Kentville,  and  then  followed  the  general 
direction  of  thi  shore  of  the  basin  until  we  had 
crossed  in  order  the  Canard,  Habitant,  and 
Pereaux  rivers,  and  gained  the  North  Mountain. 
Striking  a  ravine  in  its  side,  we  ascended  a  well- 
made  road  to  the  summit  at  a  point  called  "  the 
Look-oif."  I  know  of  no  other  hill  or  mountain 
which  gives  the  reward  that  this  one  does  in 
proportion   to  the   effort   required  to   climb  it. 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


Many  a  rough  White  Mountain  scramble  up 
three  thousand  feet  yields  nothing  like  the  view 
which  this  hill  affords.  The  Nova  Scotian 
glories  in  the  fact  that  from  it  he  can  see  into 
seven  counties,  and  count  prosperous  farms  by 
the  score  and  apple-trees  by  the  hundred  thou- 
sand. 

From  the  shores  of  the  baoin  westward  through 
the  valley  between  the  North  and  South  Moun- 
tain well-tilled  farm  lands  reach  towards  An- 
napolis as  far  as  the  eye  can  see.  It  is  a  patch- 
work of  which  the  provinces  are  and  may  well 
be  proud ;  that  quilted  landscape,  with  grain  and 
potatoes,  orchard  and  hayfield,  feather-stitched 
in  squares  by  zigzag  pole  fences.  Were  this 
the  whole  or  the  essence  of  the  view  from  the 
Look-off,  it  would  not  be  worth  writing  about, 
for  farm  lands  by  themselves,  or  with  a  frame 
of  rounded  hills,  are  neither  novel  nor  inspiring. 
That  which  stirs,  in  this  view,  is  the  mingling 
of  Minas  Basin,  its  blue  water  and  dim  farther 
shores,  with  Grand  Pre  and  the  other  dike  lands 
and  with  the  red  bluffs  of  Pereaux.  The  2)atch- 
work  and  hills  serve  only  as  contrast,  back- 
ground, filling,  to  the  pronounced  features  of 
sparkling  sea,  bright  green  meadows  cleft  from 
the  sea  by  dikes,  terra-v  otta  sands  and  bluffs, 
and  the  forest-covered  ridge  leading  towards  half- 
concealed    Blomidon,  the  monarch  of   this  guy 


8 


FROAf  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


and  sunlit  realm.     It  was  dreamlike  to  see  the 
tide  creeping  in  over  the  shining  red  sand  and 
ooze,  and  changing  their  vivid  tints  by  blending 
with  them  its  own  colors  to  make  tones  strange 
both  to  sea   and  sand.     The  wide  expanses  of 
mud  left  bare  by  the  tide  told  in  their  own  way 
the  story  of  the  Acadian  dike  builder.     No  man 
of  the  soil  cculd  see  the  riches  exposed  daily  to 
view  without  wishing  to  keep  them  for  his  own 
tillage.     Even  the  man  of  to-day,  who  lay  be- 
side me  on  the  turf  of  the  Look-off,  told  of  his 
visions  of  a  new  dike  many  times  greater  than 
any  that  the  simple  Acadian  farmer  had  built, 
and  which  is   some   day  to   snatch  a  million 
dollars'  worth  of  land  from  Minas  Basin,  and 
make  it  into   a  part  of  the  prosperous  Nova 
Scotia  of  the  future.     Listening  to   the   dike 
builder,  and  wondering  at  the  absence  in  this 
exquisite  place  of  the  hotels,  pushing  railways, 
dainty  steamers,  and  other  machinery  which  at 
home  would  long  ago  have  been  applied  to  give 
this   spot   to   the  madding   crowd,  it  suddenly 
came  over  me  that  this  was  not  a  part  of  the 
United  States,  but  a  sleepy  corner  of  Greater 
Britain.     Even  the  great  dike  must  be  built  on 
paper  in  London  before  it  intrudes  on  Minas 
Basin. 

The   next  time   that   I  fully  realized  Nova 
Scotia's  bondage  was  two  days  later,  in  Halifax 


FEO.}f  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


9 


on  Sunday  morning.  It  was  a  warm  day  at 
best,  but  when  we  had  fairly  pelted  up  a  narrow 
street  set  on  the  earth  at  an  angle  best  adapted 
to  tobogganing,  and  gained  the  gateway  of  a 
chapel  yard,  all  nature  seemed  melting.  The 
hot  air  was  moved,  not  by  a  vulgar  breeze,  but 
by  the  tramp  of  military  men,  and  by  the 
scampering  of  women  and  children  who  gazed 
upon  the  military  men,  and  grew  redder  in  the 
light  reflected  from  their  uniforms.  There  was 
morning  service  in  the  garrison  chapel,  and  the 
redcoats  were  out  in  force  to  attend  it.  They 
marched  lightly,  quickly,  and  with  an  elastic 
step  pleasant  to  see.  They  were  good-looking 
boys,  as  a  rule,  and  when  seated,  hundreds 
strong,  in  the  wooden  pews  of  the  chapel,  they 
looked  tidy  and  good  enough  to  be  mothers'  own 
boys  safe  at  home  in  the  wayside  chapels  of  the 
old  country.  Above  them,  in  the  walls,  were  set 
a  score  of  marble  tablets  commemorative  of 
British  officers  who  had  died  in  or  near  Halifax. 
The  ages  of  these  fallen  heroes  seemed  to  range 
from  seventeen  to  about  twenty-four.  No  won- 
der England  is  a  power  on  the  earth,  when  her 
fighters  begin  life  in  childhood,  and  her  states- 
men keep  on  ruling  until  near  fourscore  and 
ten. 

The  red-coated  youths  joined  heartily  in  the 
C hutch  service,  singing,  responding,  and  listen- 


10 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


ing  attentively  to  the  sermon,  whicli  was  manly 
and  direct.  A  young  officer  read  the  lessons, 
and  when  a  cornet  added  its  ringing  tones  to  the 
choir  the  Church  militant  seemed  complete  in  its 
equipment.  It  was  when  the  prayer  for  the 
Queen  and  the  Prince  of  ^  alos  was  reached  that 
I  suddenly  realized  the  full  meaiiing  of  the  scene 
which  surrounded  me.  This  was  a  garrison 
church,  owned  by  a  foreign  power  and  occupied 
by  foreign  soldiers.  These  soldiers  were  not 
Nova  Scotians,  but  Englishmen,  planted  here 
as  much  to  watch  the  Nova  Scotians  as  to  serve 
any  other  purpose.  I  could  not  help  remember- 
ing the  time,  long  ago,  when  Massachusetts  dis- 
pensed with  redcoats,  and  in  the  very  act  of  driv- 
ing them  away  from  her  coast  gained  new  life 
which  has  animated  her  to  this  day.  Nova  Scotia 
men  are  good  enough  and  true  enough  to  defend 
Nova  Scotia  soil. 

When  the  redcoats  sang  "God  save  the 
Queen,"  at  the  close  of  their  service,  I  joined 
with  them ;  but  the  words  I  knew,  and  which  I 
sang  as  vigorously  as  prudence  and  courtesy  per- 
mitted, made  no  reference  to  their  distant  sover- 
eign. Still,  the  tune  was  the  same,  we  were 
brothers  in  music,  and  there  was  no  shadow  of 
unkindness  in  my  feeling  towards  the  manly  sol- 
diers as  we  trooped  out  of  chapel  together. 
While  they  formed  iu  ranks  on  the  green,  I  met 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


11 


and  chatted  with  their  commanding  officer.  Sud- 
denly the  twelve  o'clock  gun  was  tired  from  the 
citadel  above  us.  The  genend  started  visibly, 
but  almost  at  the  same  moment  his  betrayal 
of  nervousness  was  covered  by  the  band,  which 
struck  up  "  Ta-ra-ra,  boom  de  ay,"  putting 
springs  into  the  soldiers'  heels,  and  broad  grins 
upon  the  spectators'  faces. 

The  next  day,  after  a  little  patient  pulling  of 
red  tape,  I  gained  admission  to  the  great  citadel 
of  Halifax,  popularly  supposed  to  be  the  key  to 
its  defenses.  The  works  were  in  poor  repair ; 
the  guns  in  sight  were  old  in  style,  and  not  of  a 
calibre  to  alarm  an  enemy's  ships  in  the  outer 
harbor ;  but  the  equipment  was  amply  sufficient 
to  keep  Halifax  itself  in  order,  or  to  deal  effect- 
ively with  an  insurgent  army  attempting  to  ap- 
proach the  city.  Against  the  attack  of  a  strong 
foreign  enemy  the  citadel  would  be  of  use  mainly 
as  a  refuge  for  the  women  and  children  of  Hali- 
fax. The  real  defenses  of  the  city  are  earth- 
works in  or  near  the  harbor,  and  an  elaborate 
system  of  mines  and  torpedoes  underlying  the 
channel. 

The  citadel  has  one  unquestioned  merit  which 
all  the  world,  red  or  blue,  can  enjoy :  it  gives 
from  its  ramparts,  or  from  the  open  grassy  slopes 
just  outside  the  bastions,  an  excellent  view  of 
Halifax  and   all   its    picturesque  surroundings. 


1    I 


12 


FIiO.}f  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


This  view  and  the  winning  hospitality  of  the 
Halifax  people  were  fresh  and  bright  in  our 
memories  as  we  took  the  Intercolonial  train 
northward  on  Tuesday  morning.  Outside  the 
train,  scanty  forei^ts,  growing  over  a  country 
which  appeared  to  have  been  bombarded  with 
rocks,  offered  no  encouragement  to  an  inquisitive 
gaze.  Inside,  motley  humanity  invented  many 
ways  of  distracting  us  in  more  senses  than  one. 
Salvationists  sat;  three  in  a  seat  and  played  con- 
certinas ;  a  company  of  maroons,  the  big  negroes 
of  the  country,  disported  in  their  best  clothes ; 
dozens  of  young  Christian  Endeavor  delegates 
hobnobbed  together ;  while  some  Nova  Scotia 
militia-men,  by  their  calf-like  antics,  made  us 
think  more  kindly  of  the  British  garrison  left 
behind.  If  the  scenery  failed  to  charm,  the 
names  of  places  did  not  fail  to  astonish  us. 
Acadie,  Tracadie,  Shubenacadie,  rang  in  my  ears 
for  days,  and  so  did  the  less  harmonious  refrain 
of  Tignish,  Antigonish  and  Merigomish.  When 
I  heard  of  Pugwash  the  climax,  seemed  attained. 
It  did  not  seem  possible  that  any  swain  could 
go  a-courting  a  girl  from  Pugwash. 

The  day  wore  on.  Names  became  places  and 
faded  back  to  names  again,  and  then  it  began  to 
rain.  It  was  in  the  rain  that  we  first  saw  the 
hills  of  Cape  Breton  looming  up  on  the  further 
side  of  the  Gut  of  Canso.     We  had  expected  to 


J, 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


13 


be  impressed  by  this  strait  and  its  bold  shores, 
but  its  proportions  as  seen  through  slowly  falling 
liiist  were  disappointing.  Had  we  not  known 
what  it  was,  it  would  have  seemed  undeniably 
commonplace. 

It  was  about  three  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of 
August  1  that  we  crossed  the  Strait  of  Canso 
and  first  touched  Cape  Breton  soil.  A  boy  with 
baskets  of  freshly  picked  cultivated  strawberries 
welcomed  us  to  the  island.  Our  mental  calendar 
rolled  back  from  August  to  June,  and  we  enjoyed 
those  berries  as  though  they  were  the  first  of  the 
season.  Each  berry  marked  a  mile  of  wet  forest 
scenery,  and  by  the  time  they  were  gone  we  were 
well  on  our  way  to  the  Bras  d'Or  lakes.  From 
6.45  A.  M.  to  5.15  p.  M.  is  a  long  day's  ride  in  a 
Nova  Scotia  car,  and  we  sighed  with  relief  when 
the  train  rolled  slowly  over  the  seven-span  iron 
bridge  at  Grand  Narrows,  and  then  slid  away 
up  the  shore  oi  the  Bras  d'Or  towards  Sydney, 
leaving  us  to  take  a  funny  little  steamer  for 
Baddeck. 

Cape  Breton  is  shaped  a  good  deal  like  a  lob- 
ster's claw  open  towards  the  north,  and  this  claw 
holds  in  its  grasp  the  grotesquely  irregular  arm 
of  the  sea  known  as  the  Bras  d'Or  lakes.  Com- 
ing by  rail  from  the  Strait  of  Canso  to  Grand 
Narrows,  we  had  given  up,  or  rather  avoided,  a 
trip  by  steamer  up  the  whole  length  of  the  Big 


f 


14 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


Bras  d'Or.  Had  the  afternoon  been  pleasant 
the  voyage  would  have  been  charming,  for  the 
placid  inland  sea,  with  its  picturesque  shores 
now  close  in  view,  and  again  below  the  horizon, 
is  one  of  the  chief  beauties  of  Cape  Breton.  As 
the  afternoon  was  shrouded  in  fine  rain,  the  Big 
Bras  d'Or  would  have  been  no  more  attractive 
than  any  other  chilly  fog-bank,  and  the  voyage 
through  it  would  have  consumed  all  the  remain- 
ing hours  of  the  day.  As  matters  stood,  we  had 
two  hours  of  daylight  before  us  ;  the  rain  had  al- 
most ceased ;  an  occasional  gleam  of  golden  light 
wandered  over  the  shores  of  the  Little  Bras  d'Or ; 
and  we  were  about  to  embark  on  a  steamer  which 
would  take  us  through  a  portion  of  the  lakes 
where  both  of  the  hilly  and  picturesque  shores 
would  be  uninterruptedly  in  sight. 

Had  we  seen  this  charming  landscape  immedi- 
ately after  bidding  farewell  to  Chocorua,  it  would 
have  failed  to  make  the  strong  impression  upon  us 
which  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  did  produce.  So  much 
of  Nova  Scotia  between  Yarmouth  and  Halifax, 
and  so  nearly  the  whole  of  the  country  between 
Halifax  and  Grand  Narrows,  had  been  of  a  kind 
which  every  one  sleeps  through  or  scowls  at  in 
the  States  that  the  Bras  d'Or  was  a  paradise  in 
comparison :  a  lake,  yet  the  sea  with  its  restless 
jellyfish;  the  sea,  yet  a  land-locked  basin  sur- 
rounded by  graceful  hills,  trim  farm  lands,  and 


(8 


■'li 

■'A 

/v 

I 
h 

i 


f 


I 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


15 


dark  forests  of  spruce  and  balsam.  Many  of  the 
hills,  rising  from  the  water  with  resolute  lines, 
wore  the  dignity  of  mountains ;  and  so  perfect 
were  their  proportions  that  bays  only  half  a  mile 
in  length  often  seemed  like  far-reaching  thorough- 
fares worthy  of  a  voyager's  exploration.  Grad- 
ually the  Grand  Narrows  bridge  faded  away, 
until  it  looked  like  a  line  of  tatting  work  against 
the  gray  sky.  Then  the  most  distant  hills  north- 
ward rose  into  well-rounded  summits,  and  at  last 
two  noble  headlands  invited  us  to  turn  westward 
between  them,  and  "to  approach  Baddeck,  masked 
by  an  island,  spruce-grown,  heron-haunted,  and 
capped  by  a  tiny  lighthouse  whose  gleaming  eye 
now  emphasized  the  gathering  gloom. 

The  traveler  who  expects  anything  picturesque 
in  an  American  village,  town,  or  city,  whether  it 
be  seen  from  the  sea,  a  lake,  a  plain,  or  a  hilltop, 
will  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  be  wholly  disap- 
pointed. Box-shaped  wooden  warehouses,  shops, 
dwellings,  and  churches,  whether  arranged  in 
parallelograms  or  hurled  together  in  true  Marble- 
head  fashion,  whether  painted  white,  pink,  green, 
yellow,  or  red,  or  not  painted  at  all,  generally 
lack  the  power  of  pleasing  the  eye.  They  are 
cheap,  comfortless  in  appearance,  temporary  in 
nature,  and  essentially  vulgar  in  design.  Bad- 
deck,  as  we  anticipated,  consisted  of  the  usual 
conglomeration   of    wooden    buildings,    rickety 


16 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


wharves,  and  country  roads ;  and  when  we  crept 
round  the  island,  and  saw  it  lank  and  gawky  be- 
fore us,  we  felt  as  though  we  had  seen  it  many 
times  before.  It  made  for  us  a  good  point  of  de- 
parture, and  as  such  we  used  it,  for  a  few  walks 
into  its  thickets  after  birds  and  plants,  and  for 
long  trips  to  the  Margaree  rivers,  and  northward 
to  Cajje  Smoky. 

We  took  our  first  walk  that  evening,  soon 
after  landing  and  getting  settled  at  the  Dunlops'. 
During  that  walk  we  learned  several  distinguish- 
ing characteristics  of  Baddeck.  In  the  first 
place,  Baddeck's  streets  are  not  lighted.  In  the 
second  place,  what  in  the  darkness  appear  to  be 
sidewalks  are  only  plank  coverings  above  deep 
gutters  or  brook  beds  which  border  the  way  ; 
and  as  the  continuity  of  this  platform  depends 
upon  the  personal  whim  of  the  abutter,  it  is  not 
surprising  that  when  Rory's  sidewalk  ceased  we 
fell  into  Torquil's  part  of  the  ditch.  The  soil 
of  Baddeck  is  so  composed  of  clay  and  other  sub- 
stances that  rain  either  runs  to  the  Bras  d'Or, 
or  stands  till  heaven  takes  pity  on  it  and  draws 
it  skyward  again.  The  third  fact  we  learned  that 
night  was  that  cows  in  Baddeck  all  wear  bells, 
sleep  in  the  highways,  and  are  never  allowed  in- 
side a  fence.  Whenever  and  wherever  we  turned, 
a  sudden  "  tinkle-tankle  "  would  show  that  we  had 
nearly  fallen  over  a  prostrate  cow  :   therefore, 


FROM  DLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


17 


after  lialf  an  hour  of  darkness,  ditches,  and 
cows,  we  returned  to  the  hotel  and  its  comforts ; 
hut  all  night  long  the  cowbells  tinkled  through 
our  dreams. 

For  the  Margaree  drive  we  took  three  days, 
starting  from  Baddeck  early  on  Thursday,  Au- 
gust 3,  in  a  top  buggy  behind  a  six-year-old  horse 
named  Jim.  The  first  day  we  drove  twenty-six 
miles,  the  second  twenty-two,  and  the  third  ten, 
fortunately  catching  a  steamer  at  Whycocomagh, 
and  so  coming  back  to  Baddeck  alive,  and  with 
Jim  still  able  to  feel  the  whip.  We  had  been 
told  that  the  Margaree  country  was  entrancing ; 
but  when  the  trip  was  over  we  had  reached  the 
conclusion,  afterward  confirmed  by  a  Cape  Breton 
veteran,  that  salmon  had  first  drawn  the  husbands 
to  the  Margaree  and  made  them  enthusiastic 
about  it,  and  that  later,  when  the  wives  invaded 
the  region,  they  had  been  taught  to  find  consola- 
tion in  the  pretty  scenery.  In  our  three  days' 
trip  we  found  but  two  spots  which  in  the  White 
Mountains  would  be  deemed  worthy  of  special 
notice.  One  of  these  was  Loch  o'  Law,  and  the 
other  Loch  Ainslie.  We  came  to  the  former 
near  the  close  of  our  first  day's  drive.  Worn 
and  weary  with  flogging  Jim,  and  insisting  twice 
each  minute  on  his  return  to  the  middle  of  the 
deeply  rutted  and  often  dangerously  washed  road, 
I  had  lost  all  interest  in  everything  save  the  dim 


IS 


FROM  BLOMIDO.'^  TO  SMOKY. 


I 


.''.I 


prospect  of  food  and  bed,  wlien  suddenly  I  saw 
the  gleam  of  water  directly  before  us,  and  the 
next  moment  we  came  out  of  the  woods  upon 
the  shore  of  a  long,  narrow  lake  held  close  to 
the  heart  of  lofty  hills.  Our  road  followed  the 
western  margin  of  the  tarn,  and  the  dark  forest 
which  overhung  us  made  premature  twilight  for 
us  to  jog  through.  Beyond  the  lake,  on  itcs  east- 
ern side,  three  impressive  hills  st^od  shoulder  to 
shoulder,  one  of  rock,  one  cf  turf,  one  of  forest. 
They  were  so  steep,  it  seemed  as  though  only 
goats  could  find  a  foothold  upon  their  flanks. 
Between  the  hill  of  rock  and  the  hill  of  turf  lay 
a  great  gorge,  overhung  by  cliffs  and  full  of 
shadows.  The  hills  themselves  were  bathed  in 
warm  sunlight,  and  the  water  was  partly  in 
shadow  and  partly  in  light.  A  mother  loon  and 
her  smarr  little  chick  were  swimming  down  the 
lake,  and  seven  or  eight  great  blue  kingfishers 
flew  up  and  down  its  borders,  sounding  over  and 
over  again  their  watchman's  rattles.  This  was 
Loch  o'  Law,  a  gem  worthy  of  its  rare  setting 
and  of  its  place  near  the  heart  of  Cape  Breton. 
From  it  the  escaping  waters  rush  downward  to 
help  form  the  Northeast  Margaree  River,  and 
the  road  we  were  following  led  us  down  with  the 
stream  to  the  pleasant  intervale  where  geese 
wander  in  flocks  up  and  down  the  roads,  and 
salmon  swim  proudly  in  t'-ie  bright  waters  of 
their  favorite  river. 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


19 


From  Northeast  Margaree  to  Margaree  Forks, 
and  from  the  Forks  up  the  Southwest  Margaree 
to  Loch  Ainslie,  the  scenery  was  not  equal  to  the 
task  of  dispossessing  Jim  of  the  foremost  place 
in  our  minds.  Jim  shied,  stumbled,  sweated, 
until  we  thought  disintegration  was  near  at  hand, 
and,  worse  than  all,  required  unremitting  guid- 
ance to  keep  him  in  the  road.  Had  the  natural 
beauties  of  the  country  been  as  great  as  we  ex- 
pected, I  doubt  not  that  Jim  would  have  tipped 
us  into  the  swift-flowing  waters  of  the  Southwest 
Margaree  long  before  Loch  Ainslie  was  reached. 
Had  Jim  been  the  horse  he  might  have  been, 
we  should  have  enjoyed  much  mor«  the  pretty 
glimpses  of  moving  water,  the  deep  pools  tempt- 
ing  a  passing  cast,  the  meadows  thick  with  spikes 
of  splendid  orchids,  and  the  rounded  hillsides 
thickly  clad  with  woods. 

Loch  Ainslie  is  a  beautiful  sheet  of  water, 
covering  in  all  about  twenty-five  square  miles, 
and  surrounded  by  good  farm  land  running  back 
upon  high  hills.  Highlanders  settled  the  country, 
and  their  descendants,  who  still  own  the  farms, 
are  eager,  like  so  many  of  our  New  England 
farmers,  to  sell  their  places,  and  try  life  under 
less  picturesque  but  more  profitable  conditions. 
We  were  welcomed  to  a  Highlander's  home,  and 
told  where  we  could  fish  to  advantage  from  three 
o'clock  till  dark.     Long  before  tea  time  we  had 


20 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


caught  more  trout  than  we  could  eat  for  supper 
and  breakfast,  and  by  nightfall  Loch  Ainslie  had 
impressed  itself  upon  us  as  the  most  beautiful 
part  of  the  Margaree  country.  This  it  did  mainly 
at  sunset,  when,  from  near  a  grove  of  lofty  pines, 
we  watched  the  most  delicate  tints  come  and  go 
in  the  sky,  on  the  distant  western  hills,  and  in 
the  fair  lake  itself,  with  its  miles  of  rippling 
water  blushing  and  paling  in  sympathy  with  the 
heavens.  While  the  sunset  lasted  we  thought 
more  of  color  than  of  form  in  our  beautiful  sur- 
roundings ;  but  after  the  passing  away  of  orange, 
yellow,  pale  green,  violet,  and  finally  blue  itself, 
we  were  soothed  by  the  lovely  contour  of  the 
beach,  the  silhouettes  of  the  pines,  the  sweep  of 
hill  crest,  the  pallid  lake,  and  the  mystery  of  the 
unfathomable  sky. 

Next  day,  August  5,  we  drove  from  Loch  Ains- 
lie to  Whycocomagh,  called  by  the  natives 
*'  Hogomah,"  and  there,  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  put 
Jim,  the  buggy,  and  ourselves  upon  a  steamer, 
and  returned  to  Baddeck  without  further  wea- 
riness of  spirit.  This  part  of  the  Bras  d'Or  is 
like  the  rest  of  the  great  labyrinth  of  inland  sea, 
charming  at  every  point.  At  times  so  narrow 
as  to  be  more  river  than  lake,  it  winds  around 
high  wooded  hills,  curves  into  countless  bays, 
and  then  expands  proudly  to  meet  the  Little 
Bras  d'Or  at  Baddeck. 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


21 


Early  on  the  following  Monday  morning, 
having  in  the  mean  time  eaten  wild  strawberries 
picked  in  the  larch  swamps  and  spruce  thickets 
back  of  Baddeck,  we  set  out  for  Cape  Smoky. 
Theoretically  we  were  going  on  foot,  but  it  so 
chanced  that  the  kindest  and  most  entertain- 
ing of  friends  found  it  convenient  to  carry  us 
eighteen  miles  northward  to  Englishtown,  on 
St.  Anne's  Bay.  Sullen  clouds  hung  over  Bras 
d'Or,  as  we  drove  for  a  mile  or  two  along  its 
shore  before  entering  the  woods  and  beginning 
the  long  and  easy  ascent  to  the  watershed  be- 
tween lake  and  bay.  Gradually  the  sky  as- 
sumed a  more  threatening  aspect,  and  when  at 
last  the  height  of  land  was  reached,  and  we  saw 
before  us  St.  Anne's  Bay,  narrow  at  first  among 
the  trees,  and  growing  broad  as  it  met  the  sea 
and  faced  boldly  northward  towards  Newfound- 
land, huge  black  clouds  rolled  eastward,  pouring 
cold  rain  upon  mountain,  bay,  and  road. 

We  drove  faster  as  the  tingling  drops  splashed 
upon  us.  Dashing  through  dark  spruces,  spin- 
ning down  steep  grades,  round  sudden  curves, 
over  frail  bridges  which  spanned  foaming 
brooks,  and  then  out  into  the  open,  we  found 
the  bay  on  our  left,  and  beyond  it,  showing 
dimly  through  the  storm,  a  large  mountain.  It 
was  Barasois  (or  Smith's)  Mountain,  and  from  its 
left  North  River  emerged  to  empty  into  a  broad 


I 


22 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


li 


I 

v. 


arm  of  the  bay,  while  behind  it,  further  north, 
the  Barasois  Kiver,  winding  through  primeval 
forests,  flowed  eastward  to  reach  the  sea  ahead 
of  us  outside  of  the  mouth  of  St.  Anne's  Bay. 
Soon  we  saw  Englishtown  a  mile  or  two  in  front 
of  us,  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  bay,  and  then 
we  noticed,  apparently  running  from  shore  to 
shore,  a  narrow  white  bar  which  separated  bay 
from  sea.  Now  the  clouds  began  to  break  and 
roll  away,  and  far,  far  beyond  the  bar  we  could 
see  headlands  of  various  degrees  of  dignity  and 
grandeur  looking  seaward.  The  last  of  them, 
very  distant,  very  high,  cloud-capped,  with  a 
front  like  Blomidon's  steepest  face,  filled  us 
with  a  yearning  to  reach  it  and  worship  at  its 
mighty  shrine.  It  was  Smoky,  the  monarch  of 
the  northern  sea. 

Glorious  yellow  sunshine  poured  down  upon 
Barasois  Mountam  and  the  heaving  waters  of 
St.  Anne's  Bay  as  we  entered  the  little  fishing 
village  of  Englishtown.  The  worst  of  the  storm 
was  passing  beyond  us,  and  myriad  perpendicu- 
lar lines  of  falling  rain  were  ruled  from  sea  to 
sky  across  the  north.  With  latent  impatience 
we  rested,  ate,  and  said  good-by  to  our  friends. 
Then  our  feet  tramped  the  muddy  road,  our 
noses  sniffed  the  atmosphere  of  drying  cod  on 
the  flakes,  our  ears  listened  to  the  song  of  the 
juncos,  and  our  eyes  gazed  forward,  northward. 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY, 


23 


toward  Smoky.  The  head  of  the  great  cape  was 
cloud-capped,  but  this  made  it  seem  all  the 
more  heaven-reaching. 

Turning  to  the  left  from  the  road,  we  de- 
scended to  the  shore  of  the  bay,  and  found  our- 
selves just  opposite  the  long  white  cobblestone 
bar  which  we  had  seen  afar  off.  Between  us 
and  its  tip  lay  a  deep  channel  which  connected 
St.  Anne's  Bay  with  the  ocean.  On  the  shore 
was  a  boat,  and  an  impatient  ferryman  stood  by 
it  watching  us  descend.  "  Where  are  you  go- 
ing?" he  asked,  his  keen  eyes  searching  us. 
"Northward,"  I  answered.  "Like  the  wild 
geese,"  he  said,  with  a  mocking  laugh,  and 
pushed  off  into  the  current.  He  was  Torquil 
McLean,  well  known  to  all  who  travel  on  the 
North  Shore,  and  holding  in  his  face  many  a 
suggestion  of  the  Highland  stock  from  which 
he  is  descended,  and  the  wild  north  country 
in  which  he  lives,  and  its  counterpart  in  which 
his  race  was  moulded.  His  strong  arms  soon 
brought  us  to  the  bar,  upon  which  two  wagons, 
several  people,  and  a  sheep  were  awaiting  his 
arrival. 

A  road,  scarcely  perceptible  at  first  glance, 
lay  along  the  bai*  towards  the  beginning  of  the 
North  Shore  country  into  which  we  were  ventur- 
ing. Between  us  and  the  north  pole  there  was 
nothing  legally  definable  as  a  hotel.    This  vague 


^n 


24: 


FROM  BL03fID0N  TO  SMOKY. 


■li 


track  over  the  cobblestone  beach  led  to  the 
mainland,  and  then,  past  farm  and  fisheruian's 
hut,  thirty  -  four  miles  to  Ingonish  Bay,  and 
thirty-six  miles  more  to  Cape  North.  Our  lodg- 
ing-places must  be  the  simple  homes  of  Gaelic- 
speaking  Presbyterians,  in  whose  eyes  we  should 
be  foreigners,  not  to  say  heathen.  Letters  from 
James  Dunlop,  of  Baddeck,  addressed  to  various 
members  of  Clan  McDonald,  were  our  principal 
hope  of  hospitality.  The  dimly  marked  road 
and  the  cobblestone  reef,  wheeling,  shrieking 
terns,  pounding  waves  from  the  northern  ocean, 
and  a  sight  of  new  and  strange  plants  combined 
to  thrill  us  with  a  sense  of  charming  novelty 
and  wildness.  It  was  still  early  in  the  after- 
noon, and  as  we  did  not  care  how  far  we  ad- 
vanced, having  already  been  carried  as  far  as 
we  originally  planned  to  walk  that  day,  we 
strolled  slowly  along  the  bar,  enjoying  the  mere 
fact  of  living. 

Among  the  plants  growing  upon  the  loosely 
packed,  egg-shaped  stones  was  one  quite  unfa- 
miliar and  of  most  uncommon  appearance.  Its 
succulent  and  glaucous  leaves  were  bluish-gray 
in  color,  and  set  thickly  upon  prostrate  stems 
which  radiated  like  devilfish  tentacles  from  a 
common  centre.  The  leaves  diminished  rapidly 
in  size  as  they  left  the  root,  and  at  the  extremity 
of  each  stem  there  were  unco'ling  clusters  of 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


26 


ifa- 


of 


exquisite  flowers  somewhat  resembling  those  of 
the  forget-me-not.  Flowers  fully  developed 
were  delicate  blue,  while  buds  and  half-opened 
blossoms  were  pink.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I 
never  saw  a  plant  more  perfectly  in  harmony 
with  its  surroundings.  Lifting  no  surface  for 
the  storm  winds  to  seize  upon,  it  nevertheless 
covered  much  ground.  Its  delicate  leaf  tints 
sympathized  with  those  of  the  polished  stones 
and  sea-bleached  driftwood  upon  which  it  grew, 
yet  its  flowers  drew  from  sky  and  sea  a  more 
pronounced  beauty  of  color  sufficient  to  allure 
the  butterfly  and  attract  the  bee.  The  botanical 
name  of  this  charming  plant  is  Mertensia  mari- 
tima.,  though  why  Gray's  manual  calls  its  flowers 
white  is  more  than  the  Cape  Breton  plant  can 
answer. 

As  we  neared  the  mainland,  stunted  spruces 
and  firs  grew  more  abundant  and  bolder,  flowers 
more  numerous,  and  the  road  plainer  and  less 
rocky.  Birds  other  than  the  weird  terns  flew 
before  us,  or  sang  to  us  from  their  cover. 
When  we  reached  the  higher  ground,  the  sense 
of  novelty  and  isolation  faded,  and  the  world 
seemed  more  like  its  old  southern  self.  The 
road  ran  along  the  shore  as  closely  as  it  could 
without  much  winding,  and  as  we  progressed 
northward  we  left  St.  Anne's  Bay  behind  us, 
and  gained  a  view  southeastward  along  the  coast 


26 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


towards  Sydney  and  the  entrance  to  the  Bras 
d'Or.  Still  the  beauty  of  St.  Anne's  followed 
us,  for  the  glimpses  which  we  had  now  and  then 
of  its  slowly  diminishing  shores  were  of  sturdy 
mountains  with  forests  reaching  to  the  waves, 
valleys  in  which  the  shades  of  evening  were 
gathering,  and  farm  lands  upon  which  the  short 
thick  grass  lay  like  velvet  in  the  slanting  rays 
of  the  sun.  The  view  eastward  was  more  rugged. 
Strong  faces  of  rock  turned  towards  the  sea  and 
fought  the  waves  which  had  crumbled  them,  and 
torn  away  all  but  the  hardest  cliffs  and  ledges. 
One  long  finger  of  rock  reached  into  the  ocean, 
and  pointed  to  a.  group  of  islands  which  may 
once  have  been  a  part  of  it.  They  were  not 
green  isles  with  sandy  margins,  but  huge  angu- 
lar masses  of  rock  with  high  cliffs,  under  which 
storms  might  rage  for  centuries  without  drag- 
ging down  the  grim  ramparts. 

We  passed  a  few  farms,  with  houses  and 
barns  standing  far  back  from  the  road,  as  is  the 
fashion  of  these  Highlanders,  but  most  of  our 
way  lay  between  pastures,  mowing-fields  with 
short  grass  partly  cropped  by  the  scythes,  and 
woodland  where  black  and  white  spruces  and 
balsam  firs  grew  densely  together.  Upon  a 
meadow  bordering  a  salt  creek  a  flock  of  yellow- 
legs  were  whistling  noisily,  and  back  and  forth 
over   them   kingfishers   were   flying  with   their 


1 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


21 


URual  cry.  As  the  sun  drew  near  the  hills,  we 
stopped  at  a  house  and  blacksmith  shop  and 
presented  the  first  of  our  letters.  William 
McDonald  lived  here,  and  our  request  was 
that  he  should  drive  us  on  our  way  to  Indian 
Brook,  where,  at  Angus  McDonald's,  we  hoped 
to  spend  the  night.  William  had  only  a  two- 
wheeled  sulky,  which  could  scarcely  carry  three  ; 
80  it  was  a  relief  to  all  of  us  when  we  saw, 
coming  from  the  bar,  a  youth  in  a  wagon,  driv- 
ing a  sprightly  nag  at  a  rattling  pace.  After  a 
brief  conversation  in  Gaelic,  William  announced 
that  the  youth  would  take  us  twelve  or  fourteen 
miles  up  the  coast  to  French  River,  where  we 
were  sure  of  a  good  bed  at  Sandy  McDonald's. 
A  moment  later  we  were  packed  in,  three  on  a 
seat,  and  dashing  northward  as  fast  as  the  pony 
could  tear.  The  youth  would  have  done  credit 
to  a  Spartan  mother.  I  never^  met  any  one  of 
his  age  and  intelligence  who  knew  so  well  how 
not  to  talk.  He  answered  my  questions  with 
the  fewest  possible  words,  but  asked  nothing  in 
return.  He  knew  the  names  of  capes,  islands, 
birds,  animals,  trees,  and  many  flowers,  but  it 
took  a  separate  question  to  drag  each  item  from 
him.  Meanwhile  he  kept  the  horse  spinning. 
We  had  no  time  to  shiver  over  holes  in  bridges ; 
the  horse  knew  his  business,  and  jumped  the 
holes,  at  least,  if  he  could  not  jump  the  whole 


28 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


bridge.  Ruts  and  gullies  were  ignored,  and  we 
learned  that,  if  taken  quickly,  two  ruts  and  a 
gully  are  almost  as  good  as  a  level. 

Twilight  was  growing  upon  the  earth,  and  far 
away  over  the  pale  sea  the  light  off  Cape  Dau- 
phin, on  the  Ciboux  Islands,  was  flashing  its  mes- 
sage of  mingled  hope  and  warning,  when  suddenly 
we  plunged  into  gloom,  wheeled  around  a  dizzy 
curve,  and  crossed  a  long  iron  bridge.  Below  us 
a  river's  dark  waters  reflected  the  waning  glory 
of  the  sky.  This  was  the  Barasois,  one  of  tho 
salmon  rivers  of  which  we  had  heard  fisherman's 
tales  at  Baddeck.  Two  miles  more  brought  us 
to  Indian  Brook,  and  again  a  great  curve  and  a 
dash  through  the  woods  prepared  us  for  another 
angle  and  a  sharp  descent  to  a  long  bridge  so  full 
of  holes  that  we  felt  as  though  only  angels  could 
have  kept  our  pony's  flying  feet  out  of  them.  A 
vision  of  cliffs,  deep  black  pools,  and  distant 
mountains  with  serrated  spruce  forests  against 
the  sunset  sky  made  us  determine  that  Indian 
Brook  should  not  be  passed  on  the  gallop  when 
we  returned  from  Ingonish,  if  indeed  that  happy 
day  ever  came. 

Darkness  having  taken  full  jJossession  of  the 
earth,  our  charioteer  urged  his  horse  to  even 
wilder  efforts,  and  we  shot  through  dim  dangers 
with  teeth  set  and  eyes  vainly  scanning  the  gloom 
to  see  what  next  impended.     It  was  in  this  fash- 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


29 


ion  that  we  tore  a(3ross  a  field  towards  the  cliffs, 
apparently  with  certain  death  before  us,  whirled 
under  a  steep  bank,  and  found  ourselves  on  the 
ocean's  edge,  in  front  of  a  long,  unpainted  build- 
ing, before  which,  standing  or  sitting  upon  the* 
loaded  fish  flakes,  were  a  dozen  or  more  men. 
Half  an  hour  later,  the  telegraph  operator  at 
the  goverment  office,  a  mile  up  the  road,  ticked 
to  Baddeck  the  following  message  given  by  our 
Jehu :  "  Them  Yanks,  the  man  and  woman,  are 
at  Sandy  McDonald's  this  night." 

"  Them  Yanks,"  stiff,  stunned,  sore,  hungry, 
cold,  and  petrified  with  astonishment,  stood  on 
Sandy  McDonald's  doorstep  and  silently  gazed 
up  and  down  upon  land  and  sea.  Truly  they 
had  been  cast  upon  as  unique  a  shelter  as  this 
world  had  ever  yet  offered  them.  The  long, 
low  house  clung  upon  the  edge  of  the  bluff,  with 
only  the  width  of  the  fish  flakes  between  it  and 
a  sharp  descent  to  the  ocean.  Behind  it  rolling 
grass  land  cut  off  the  west.  Southward  a  line 
of  bold  rocky  cliffs  overhung  a  narrow  beach, 
upon  which  the  waves  broke  and  cast  foam  from 
many  fragments  of  ledge  which  dotted  the  shore. 
Through  a  similar  line  of  bluffs  on  the  north 
French  River  had  cut  its  way,  but  instead  of 
reaching  the  ocean  directly  it  was  turned  aside 
by  a  huge  cobblestone  barrier  raised  by  storms, 
and  so  was  compelled  to  flow  nearly  parallel  to 


80 


FROM  BLUM  I  DON  TO  SMOKY. 


the  shore  for  many  rods,  finally  reaching  the  sea 
just  at  the  foot  of  the  fish  flakes  and  in  front 
of  the  house.  Eastward  and  northward,  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  see,  lay  the  open  ocean.  The 
only  distance  not  sky  or  sea  was  the  broken  shore 
near  Cape  Dauphin  and  Point  Aconi,  which 
limited  the  view  towards  the  southeast  and  south. 
Just  below  the  fish  flakes  were  several  fisher- 
men's huts,  crowded  together  upon  uncertain 
foundations  above  high-tide  mark.  Boats,  great 
tubs  for  oil,  more  flakes  thickly  strewn  with  split 
fish,  masses  of  seaweed  and  fish  heads,  big  frag- 
ments of  rock  worn  round  by  the  waves,  oars, 
sails,  ropes,  nets,  lobster  pots,  and  nameless  rel- 
ics of  storm  and  shore  lay  in  wild  confusion 
at  the  foot  of  the  bank.  All  the  odors  of  Bil- 
lingsgate rose  to  salute  our  trembling  nostrils, 
and  stronger  than  all  sights  and  smells  came  in 
ceaseless  iteration  the  singing  and  sobbing  of 
the  great  waves. 

Sandy  McDonald  gave  us  a  hearty  welcome, 
and  ushered  us  into  a  cosy  parlor,  from  which 
opened  a  tiny  bedroom.  Simple  food,  reading  by 
McDonald  from  a  Gaelic  Bible,  a  long  breath  of 
ocean  air,  and  the  benediction  of  the  stars  fitted  us 
for  early  and  profound  sleep.  It  was  not  until 
gray  dawn  that  I  awakened,  and,  throwing  a 
blanket  over  my  shoulders,  stole  to  the  door  and 
looked  out  over  the  sea.     The  fishermen  were 


FROM  liLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


31 


already  afloat ;  several  boats  were  a  mile  from 
.sliore,  and  others,  with  sails  flapping  and  oars 
thumping,  were  working  their  way  towards  the 
east.  Across  the  far  horizon  lay  a  long,  low 
bank  of  white  fog.  The  sun  came  slowly  from 
it  and  looked  at  the  drowsy  world  with  its  one 
red  eye.  Its  light  touched  each  wave  as  it 
broke,  and  through  the  thin  green-combing  of 
the  breaker  the  sun's  glow  was  rose-colored  and 
exquisitely  beautiful.  So,  too,  the  rosy  light  lay 
in  the  thin  water  which  ran  back  across  the  shin- 
ing sand,  as  each  wave  subsided  after  breaking 
on  the  beach.  Cape  Dauphin  and  its  islands 
floated  as  rosy  castles  in  a  distant  haze,  and  the 
bluffs  close  to  me  put  on  s  Tt  and  alluring  tints, 
soon  to  be  lost,  however,  as  the  sun  grew  clear, 
and  by  whiter  light  robbed  the  scene  of  most 
of  its  peculiar  charm. 

It  was  not  until  after  another  period  of  sweet 
sleep  that  we  began  our  walk  of  fourteen  miles 
from  French  River  over  Cape  Smoky  to  Ingonish. 
The  day  was  warm  and  clear.  Smoky  stood  up 
boldly  against  the  north,  facing  eastward  towards 
the  open  sea  with  a  front  as  steep  as  Blomidon's, 
and  nearly  three  times  as  high.  For  about  two 
hundred  feet  above  the  ocean  the  mountain's  face 
was  reddish  rock ;  thence  for  a  thousand  feet 
low  trees  clothed  the  rampart  with  soft  green. 
The  top,  running  inland  a  long  distance,  appeared 


32 


FROM  BLOAflDON  TO  SMOKY. 


I 


fi    ' 
if  V. 


i 

Hi 

3i 


.to  be  level,  and  either  wooded  or  covered  with 
bushes.  Between  us  and  Smoky  two  minor 
bluffs  pointed  into  the  sea ;  but  they  were 
dwarfed  by  the  loftier  cape,  and  served  only  as 
milestones  to  cheer  us  on  our  way. 

After  walking  a  mile  or  more  we  met  two 
men,  who  addressed  us  pleasantly,  and  turned 
to  walk  with  us  on  our  way.  The  older  of  the 
two  was  over  eighty,  and  told  of  his  far-away 
birthplace  in  the  Isle  of  Lewis.  The  younger, 
a  man  of  sixty,  was  very  tall,  and  saw  this 
world  through  but  one  eye.  Wo  soon  found 
that  it  was  his  son  who  had  been  our  laconic 
charioteer  the  evening  before,  and  as  the  talk 
progressed  it  became  evident  that  Big  Rory,  as 
this  canny  man  is  called  from  Baddeck  to  Cape 
North,  was  not  in  favor  of  our  walking  over 
Smoky,  when  his  horse  and  wagon  could  be 
earning  more  American  dollars  by  carrying  ua. 
We  withstood  his  arguments,  however,  and  en- 
joyed his  flow  of  genial  and  intelligent  conver- 
sation. I  felt  sure  that  had  Cape  Breton  been 
called  upon  to  take  an  active  or  courageous  part 
in  this  world's  doings  while  Big  Rory  was 
young,  he  would  have  been  a  power  in  her  life. 
True,  he  is  that  in  a  way  now,  politically ;  but 
provincial  politics  are  so  lacking  iS  all  that  is 
pure,  patriotic,  or  intelligent  that  neither  Big 
Rory   nor   any    other   strong   man    has    much 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


33 


chance  to  m^ke  head  against  the  undertow  of 
corruption  and  prejudice. 

By  noon  we  had  reached  one  of  the  last  houses 
on  the  southern  side  of  Smoky.  Here  we  sought 
dinner,  but  found,  alas,  what  too  many  of  the 
North  Shore  people  live  upon,  —  sour  bread, 
boiled  tea,  sour  milk  sweetened  and  watered, 
and  berries.  Our  hosts  could  probably  have 
added  salt  fish,  eggs,  and  oatmeal  porridge,  had 
they  felt  like  it.  But  we  made  the  best  meal  we 
could  off  the  food  offered,  and  askeci  for  no  ad- 
ditions, feeling  that  what  we  ate  might  be  seri- 
ously diminishing  their  own  dinners. 

Upon  rather  insufficient  rations,  therefore,  wa 
advanced  against  Smoky,  and  began  the  ascent 
by  following  inland  a  noisy  stream  which  flowed 
seaward  along  the  mountain's  southern  border. 
After  carrying  us  deep  into  the  forest,  which 
was  by  far  the  most  lofty  and  vigorous  growth 
of  trees  we  had  thus  far  seen  on  the  island,  the 
road  crossed  the  torrent  and  turned  seaward 
again,  ascending  by  easy  grades  through  a  dense 
birch  growth.  On  the  whole,  the  road  was  well 
made,  and  showed  skill  on  the  part  of  those  who 
planned  it.  When  we  reached  its  highest  point, 
we  found  the  top  still  unconquered ;  so,  strik- 
ing through  bushes  and  over  steep  ledges,  we 
clambered  to  the  undisputed  summit,  and  there 
paused  to  survey  the  panorama  below  us. 


34 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


:l  y 


It  was  assuredly  a  magnificent  view,  and  one 
which  will  in  time  lead  many  feet  to  the  ledges 
now  mainly  enjoyed  by  berry-pickers,  bears  in- 
cluded. To  the  west  lay  barrens  similar  to  those 
which  are  said  to  cover  the  interior  of  this  part 
of  Cape  Breton.  Rocks,  bushes,  bare  ledges, 
and  hollows  filled  with  sphagnum  or  pools  of 
amber  water  were  the  prevailing  elements  in  a 
country  which  now  and  then  sustaincrl  a  patch 
of  low  spruces  or  a  larger  body  of  mixed  woods. 
The  east  was  ocean,  limitless  and  blue.  But  at 
our  feet  were  the  wild  details  of  the  great  preci- 
pice which  fell  away  from  us  twelve  hundred 
feet  to  the  waves.  Over  it  several  large  black 
birds  were  sailing,  and  the  first  croak  which  came 
echoing  up  the  cliffs  from  them  disclosed  their 
identity:  they  were  not  crows,  but  ravens.  I 
had  been  told  that  when  I  reached  Smoky  I  must 
keep  an  eye  open  for  ravens ;  and  true  enough, 
here  they  were. 

Our  view  northward  was  limited  by  the  fact 
that  the  foreground  was  filled  by  the  great  mass 
of  mountain  which  we  were  next  to  cross  in  order 
to  look  down  upon  Ingonish.  Nevertheless,  a 
wide  expanse  of  ocean  showed  in  the  northeast, 
and  the  heads  of  distant  mountains  crowded  to- 
gether in  the  northwest.  Between  sea  and  moun- 
tains we  could  catch  one  glimpse  of  a  nearer  head- 
land, with  a  church  steeple  rising  from  a  village  at 


r 


FROM  DLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


35 


its  heel.  It  was  the  southern  view  which  held  us 
enchanted  even  when  we  felt  that  we  must  pause 
no  longer.  From  the  foot  of  Smoky  back  to  the 
far  seclusion  of  St.  Anne's  Bay  the  cliff-lined 
coast  we  had  traversed  lay  in  profile  before  us. 
Headland  after  headland  pointed  eastward,  and 
valley  after  valley  wound  back  among  the  hills 
and  forests.  From  St.  Anne's  Bay  the  coast 
turned  eastward  and  ran  away  into  distance, 
coming  out  boldly  'it  Cape  Dauphin  and  Point 
Aconi,  and  retreating  again  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Bras  d'Or  and  the  entrance  to  Sydney  Harbor. 
Later  in  the  afternoon  Smoky  gave  us  one 
more  view,  which,  by  reason  of  marvelous  lights 
and  shadows  in  the  sky,  was  even  more  beautiful 
than  any  other  picture  which  Cape  Breton  or 
Minas  Basin  revealed  to  us.  "vTb  !>ad  descended 
many  a  steep  slope,  and  passed  through  a  fine 
primeval  forest  where  lofty  beeches,  yellow 
birches,  hemlocks,  and  spruces  presented  much 
the  same  aspects  which  I  love  so  well  to  see  on 
the  Lost  Trail.  We  had  rounded  one  shoulder 
of  the  mountain  where  the  edge  of  the  road  had 
slipped  down  four  or  five  hundred  feet  into  a 
brook  bed,  leaving  only  room  for  a  wagon  to 
pass  between  the  unguarded  edge  of  the  ravine 
and  the  gravel  bank  which  rose  from  the  road 
on  its  other  side.  A  horse  having  already 
plunged  down  there,  I,  even  on  my  own  feet, 


36 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


I 


ifl     il 


did  not  like  the  sensation  of  passing  this  spot. 
When  I  heard  that  the  mail  carrier  went  by  it 
in  his  sulky  or  sleigh  night  after  night,  summer 
and  winter,  I  wished  that  the  highway  commis- 
sioners for  this  district  could  be  compelled  to 
travel  with  him  on  his  dangerous  way.  Soon 
after  leaving  this  place,  the  road  came  out  on  an 
open  hillside  commanding  an  uninterrupted  view 
of  all  that  part  of  Cape  Breton  lying  north  of 
Cape  Smoky.  The  coast  in  profile  extended 
northward  until  its  details  were  lost  in  dis- 
tance. Bays,  headlands,  islands,  sandy  beaches, 
lighthouses,  cosy  villages,  passing  ships,  sailing 
ravens,  and  sparkling  waves  shone  on  the  right, 
while  on  the  left  mountain  after  mountain,  all 
heavily  wooded,  though  showing  many  a  bare 
cliff  or  sculptured  summit,  filed  away  from  fore- 
ground to  distance  in  mighty  ranks.  A  huge 
mass  of  storm  cloud,  sent  down  from  the  Bay 
of  St.  Lawrence,  was  sweeping  proudly  across 
the  sky  from  west  to  east.  At  some  points  it 
was  inky  black  and  quivering  with  lightning,  at 
others  it  was  white  or  gray,  while  on  the  edges 
of  the  thunderheads  golden  reflections  from  the 
hidden  sun  gleamed  as  the  banners  of  the  cloud 
army  which  slowly  spread  across  the  plains  of 
blue.  In  the  north  there  arose  the  dim  out- 
line of  a  high  mountain.  We  knew  that  it  must 
be  very  near  to  Cape  North,  and  we  fancied  that 


* 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


37 


from  its  summit  Newfoundland's  gloomy  crags 
might  be  seen  across  the  sea. 

One  of  the  nearer  mountains  attracted  our 
notice  by  its  strange  outline.  As  it  lay  against 
a  background  of  black  cloud,  its  profile  of  naked 
rock  was  sharply  cut,  and  high  up  on  its  precip- 
itous face  a  slender  column  of  stone  projected 
from  the  ma  ,  as  a  ship's  figurehead  leans  for- 
ward from  the  bows.  It  was  like  a  human  form 
poised  over  a  black  abyss,  yet  lifting  its  weak 
arms  towards  heaven.  From  among  the  nearer 
mountains  a  river  could  be  seen  winding  towards 
the  sea.  It  came  along  the  foot  of  Smoky,  spread 
into  a  landlocked  basin,  yet  found  a  narrow  chan- 
nel for  itself  between  a  lighthouse  and  a  bar, 
and  so  gained  the  outer  bay.  This  outer  bay 
was  cut  in  twain  by  a  slender  rocky  promon- 
tory, with  picturesque  outlines,  high  cliifs,  and 
deep  clefts  in  its  side.  On  the  northern  margin 
of  the  farther  bay  was  Ingonish  village,  and 
along  the  western  border  of  the  nearer  bay  —  on 
the  bar,  in  fact,  or  close  to  it  and  the  lighthouse 
—  was  another  hamlet,  called  Ingonish  South 
Bay.  It  was  to  this  nearer  village  at  our  feet 
that  we  looked  with  most  interest,  for  it  was  our 
ultima  Thule. 


INGONISH,  BY  LAND  AND  SEA. 

Under  the  northern  shadow  of  Cape  Smoky 
there  is  a  double  bay,  cut  in  two  by  a  rocky  pe- 
ninsula called  Middle  Head.  Into  the  half  of  the 
bay  next  to  Smoky,  and  chafing  restlessly  against 
the  foundations  of  its  richly  colored  cliffs,  runs 
the  Ingonish  River,  which  comes  from  the  al- 
most impenetrable  forests  and  morasses  of  the  in- 
terior of  northern  Cape  Breton  to  pour  its  clear 
waters  into  the  ocean.  No  bridge  crosses  the 
stream,  and  the  traveler  who  descends  from  the 
heights  of  Smoky  towards  the  fishermen's  ham- 
let of  Ingonish  South  Bay,  which  he  sees  scat- 
tered upon  a  sandy  spit  at  his  feet,  finds  himself 
halting  upon  the  edge  of  deep,  swift  water,  with 
cove  on  his  left  and  bay  on  his  right,  and  never  a 
sign  of  a  way  across.  If  his  voice  is  strong  and 
clear,  he  may  waken  the  fishermen's  dogs  on  the 
other  shore,  and,  what  is  more  to  the  purpose, 
bring  a  red-haired,  blue-eyed  lad  to  the  flatboat 
on  the  sand,  and  to  the  big  sweep  which  will 
presently  urge  it  across  to  the  foot  of  the  red  cliffs. 
The  people  of  Ingonish  are  in  part  of  Irish 
parentage  and  in  part  of  Scotch,  but  they  are 


INGONISH,  BY  LAND  AND  SEA. 


39 


almost  all  members  of  the  Roman  communion, 
and  made  of  different  stuff  from  the  blue  Pres- 
byterian Highlanders  who  dwell  along  the  coast 
between  Cape  Smoky  and  the  head  of  St.  Anne's 
Bay.  In  the  best  of  the  houses,  which  stand  one 
beyond  another  on  the  South  Bay  beach,  lives 
Mr.  Baker,  whose  hospitality  makes  a  journey 
beyond  Smoky  a  possibility,  and  more  than  that, 
a  pleasure.  Here  may  be  laid  aside  the  stoicism 
needed  to  sustain  life  during  the  journey  up  the 
north  shore ;  and  here,  in  the  midst  of  restless 
ocean,  tawny  sands,  red  cliffs,  undulating  forests, 
and  brooks  alive  with  trout,  can  be  found  all 
that  nature  can  give  to  stimulate  happiness  or  to 
lull  the  troubled  mind,  and  all  that  the  reason- 
able wanderer  can  expect  to  find  to  make  his 
weary  flesh  comfortable.  In  the  days  which  we 
spent  at  Mr.  Baker's  we  learned  to  love  Ingonish 
more  and  more,  as  we  explored  it  by  land  and  by 
sea. 

I. 


BY  LAND. 

The  breath  of  fire  floated  in  the  air,  making  it 
hazy,  softening  the  mountain  contours,  giving  a 
wicked  look  to  the  sea,  and  filling  me,  through 
its  perfume,  with  the  same  feeling  of  unrest  that 
the  moose  and  caribou  have  as  they  feel  the  smoke 
of   burning   forests   tingling   in   their  nostrils. 


ill 


i 


40 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


Looking  inland,  I  saw  the  hills  marshaled  along 
the  river,  rank  behind  rank,  with  their  relative 
distances  clearly  defined  by  the  smoke.  The 
mercury  was  above  90°  Fahrenheit,  and  moun- 
tain climbing  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  Middle 
Head,  seen  across  the  waves,  suggested  cool 
breezes,  and  towards  its  lean,  half-grassy,  half- 
rocky  finger,  pointing  ever  eastward,  we  took 
our  way.  From  Mr.  Baker's,  half  a  mile  of 
sandy  road  runs  northward  parallel  with  an 
ideally  beautiful  beach.  Then  the  road  bends 
to  the  left,  inland,  while  the  beach  curves  to  the 
right,  seaward,  rising  soon  into  sandy  banks, 
which  in  turn  change  to  sculptured  cliffs  at 
whose  foot  the  sea  murmurs. 

Terns  with  black-tipped  wings  skimmed  close 
to  the  restless  waves,  and  over  the  fretted  sand 
where  the  ripples  had  left  the  marks  of  their 
lips.  No  one  walked  upon  the  road  where  man 
had  scratclied  together  badly  the  same  sand 
which  nature  had  made  perfect  by  the  tides. 

When  I  looked  at  Ingonish  beach  as  it  was, 
silent,  lonely,  serene,  and  pure,  I  thought  what 
it  might  some  day  be  made  if  fashionable  men 
and  women,  on  pleasure  bent,  chanced  to  dis- 
cover it  and  to  feel  the  thrill  of  its  sun-tempered 
tide,  which  is  as  mild  as  that  of  their  favorite 
but  more  southern  shores.  Now,  at  least,  the 
absence  of  hotels  where  such  men  and  women 


<u.rt!ife«tv,*,-.v,^,  ^iiff,\ 


m 


JNGONISII,  BY  LAND  AND  SEA. 


41 


might  be  fed  and  put  to  bed,  if  by  chance  the 
sea  or  their  own  feet  cast  them  upon  these  dis- 
tant sands,  makes  it  certain  that  they  will  not 
come  to  banish  Eden  by  their  presence. 

Between  the  sand  beach  and  the  road  there 
rises  a  massive  wall  of  rounded  stones,  varying 
in  size  from  a  goose  egg  to  a  human  skull.  Can 
waves  alone  have  raised  such  a  dike  ?  The  same 
question  came  to  me  as  I  studied  a  similar  wall 
running  along  the  seaward  side  of  the  bar  which 
well  nigh  makes  St.  Anne's  Bay  a  lake,  and 
Torquil  McLean's  ferry  a  superfluity  instead  of 
a  somewhat  malodorous  joy.  Perhaps  the  fact 
that  often,  in  winter,  the  ice  comes  stealing 
across  from  Newfoundland  and  the  seas  that  lie 
beyond  it,  and  packs  itself  against  St.  Anne's 
bar  and  all  the  north  coast  of  Cape  Breton,  may 
explain  these  walls.  The  thrust  of  the  ice  could 
scour  the  shallows  for  miles,  and  bear  along 
loose  stones  to  the  first  beach  whose  sloping  face 
would  receive  them.  The  density  of  the  ar- 
rangement of  these  stones,  and  the  abruptness 
of  the  front  which  they  present  to  the  sea,  point 
to  ice  action  rather  than  to  that  of  waves  alone. 
The  wall  is  so  high  that  those  walking  or  driv- 
ing along  the  road  cannot  see  the  beach,  while 
those  bathing  cannot  see  the  country  inland. 
Shut  in  between  shingle  and  sea,  we  walked  the 
length  of  the  sand,  and  then  climbed  to  the  top 
of  the  bluffs  of  Middle  Head. 


m 


i  II 

I      Ml 


I 


II 


42 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


The  evening  before,  while  watching  meteors 
from  the  beach,  we  had  seen  the  sky  above 
Middle  Head  suddenly  lighted  up  by  a  bright 
fire.  It  lasted  ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  then  died 
away  so  quickly  that  we  felt  sure  no  building 
could  have  been  destroyed.  Now,  on  the  nar- 
row path  leading  along  the  edge  of  the  cliffs,  we 
met  three  men.  They  bowed  and  touched  their 
caps  with  the  smiling  politeness  characteristic 
of  most  of  the  natives,  Gaelic  or  Irish.  I  asked 
them  what  and  where  the  fire  had  been  ;  and  in 
a  few  words  they  said  that  Rory  This  had 
bought  the  right  to  cut  grass  on  Sandy  That's 
land,  but  that  after  the  hay  was  made  a  dispute 
arose  as  to  the  price  ;  so  the  hay  had  been 
burned  to  quiet  the  trouble.  I  confess  I  could 
not  reason  out  the  process  by  which  either  liory 
who  had  labored,  or  Sandy  who  had  owned  the 
grass,  could  find  comfort  in  putting  match  to 
the  hay. 

Some  of  the  rock  which  supported  Sandy's 
scorched  hayfield,  and  which  formed  portions 
of  the  cliffs  of  Middle  Head,  contrasted  strik- 
ingly with  the  prevailing  red  syenite  of  the 
Ingonish  region.  It  was  white ;  not,  however, 
like  newly  fallen  snow,  but  like  that  which  this 
world  has  somewhat  soiled.  Gypsum,  or  "  plas- 
ter," as  Cape  Breton  calls  it,  occurs  in  many 
places  on  the   Bras  d'Or  and  along  the  north 


'  7 


INGONISn,  BY  LAND  AND  SEA. 


43 


coast.  It  suffers  much  more  from  the  action  of 
water  and  frost  than  the  harder  rocks  surround- 
ing it,  so  that  wiiere  it  appears  on  the  surface 
there  are  sure  to  be  odd  depressions  in  the  soil, 
"  sink  holes,"  into  which  earth  and  trees  have 
settled ;  or,  in  cliff  faces,  deep  hollows,  coves,  or 
caverns.  The  path  along  Middle  Head  follows 
closely  the  trend  of  the  shore,  and  from  it  we 
found  ourselves  looking  down  into  the  most  sug- 
gestive little  cove  that  smugglers  would  care  to 
own  or  story- writers  to  dream  over.  Its  open- 
ing to  the  sea  was  narrow,  and  all  its  walls  were 
high  and  steep,  yet  it  had  a  tiny  sand  beach 
where  a  boat  could  land  easily  even  if  storm 
waves  beat  angrily  on  the  stern  cliffs  outside. 

About  halfway  out  on  the  Head  we  came  upon 
a  spring,  —  a  cup-shaped  hollow  in  the  mud, 
filled  with  sun-warmed  water,  —  which  tempted 
us  to  rest  near  it  under  the  low  pines  and 
spruces,  where  Cape  Smoky  could  be  seen  across 
the  bay,  its  richly  toned  cliffs  wonderfully  worn 
by  waves,  and  its  lofty  head  resting  in  the  haze 
that  gives  the  mountain  promontory  its  name. 
Its  outer  point,  which  cuts  in  twain  waves 
unchecked  from  the  Grand  Banks,  is  called 
"the  Bill  of  Smoky."  From  this  point  back 
to  the  Ingonish  light  the  syenite  crags  rise 
supreme  above  waves  or  ice.  Near  the  light- 
house  the  lines  of   Smoky   grow   more  gentle. 


44 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


The  forest,  which  above  the  Bill  is  but  a  narrow 
line  next  the  sky,  slopes  downward  to  the  placid 
water  inside  the  bar,  and  rolls  on  westward  to 
join  other  expanses  of  spruce  and  birch,  hem- 
lock and  maple,  which  clothe  the  mountains  and 
fill  the  river  valley  with  soft  folia^  While 
dreamily  watching  this  fair  northern  |  .cturc,  as 
it  quivered  in  the  heat  of  a  half-tropical  day,  we 
were  startled  by  a  sudden  cry  which  came  from 
the  waves  far  below.  Then  a  man,  with  a  coil 
of  rope  on  his  arm,  passed  us,  and  went  cau- 
tiously to  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  over  which 
he  peered  and  made  signals.  Thoughts  of  smug- 
glers, of  hidden  wines  brought  by  night  from  St. 
Pierre,  of  a  discovery  by  the  smugglers  that  we 
knew  of  their  landing-place,  and  finai'V  of  the 
consequences  of  their  discovery,  float)  hrougli 
our  minds,  already  saturated  with  the  -  mantic 
elements  of  Ingonish  scenery  and  life.  Then 
more  men  came,  and  passed.  They  too  crept  to 
the  edge  and  looketl  into  the  dizzy  waves  beneath. 
One  of  them  lowered  the  rope  over  the  cliff,  and 
seemed  to  be  trying  to  lasso  something  many 
feet  below.  Our  curiosity  prevailed  over  our 
timidity,  and  we  drew  near  to  the  edge  of  the 
rock.  The  vision  of  smuggled  champagne  faded, 
and  in  its  place  was  put  the  truth  :  that  a  sheep 
had  gone  over  the  cliff  to  a  narrow  shelf  more 
than  halfway  down  to  the  sea,  and  that  these 


INGONISn,  BY  LAND  AND  SEA. 


45 


men  were  trying  to  rescue  him  alive,  while  a 
boy  in  a  boat  tossed  by  waves  below  shouted 
advice  to  them. 

Middle  Head,  and  many  a  mile  of  coast  north 
of  it,  is  the  home  of  the  raven,  or  "  big  crow," 
as  the  Ingonish  people  call  him.  Close  to  the 
smuggler's  cove  a  long,  ragged  point  juts  out 
from  the  cliffs.  At  its  extremity  huge  masses 
of  broken  rock  lie  in  tlie  wash  of  the  tide.  As 
we  passed  this  point,  I  saw  an  uncanny  shape 
squatted  upon  its  outer  rock.  It  was  a  bird, 
web-footed,  gaunt,  black,  vidture  -  headed,  yet 
with  a  sac,  a  hideous  skinny  object,  fitted  like  a 
pelican's  pouch  beneath  its  beak.  A  native  pass- 
ing said  it  was  a  "  shag,"  which  meant  nothing 
to  me  until  I  found  that  "  shag  "  and  "  cormo- 
rant "  were  two  equally  expressive  names  for 
this  same  nightmarish  bird  of  rock  and  wave.  I 
crept  out  upon  the  point,  first  skulking  behind 
wild  rose  bushes  and  goldenrod,  and  then  coast- 
ing down  a  sandy  slope,  out  of  sight  of  the  spec- 
tre I  was  stalking.  Gaining  the  water's  edge,  I 
clambered  along  among  huge  rocks  upon  which 
seaweeds  grew  and  trailed  their  fingers  in  the 
tide,  and  so  came  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  shag. 
Suddenly  I  looked  up  as  a  huge  shadow  swept 
over  me,  and  saw,  black  and  big  against  the  hot 
sky,  a  passing  bird  which  watched  me  with  keen 
eyes.     Growing  from  the  rocks  which  overhung 


.;    ,V 


46 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TG  SMOKY. 


me  was  a  hunchbacked  pine,  the  sport  of  every 
mocking  wind  that  harried  this  rough  coast, 
and  in  its  bent  branches  sat  five  ravens.  They 
croaked,  but  did  not  fly,  satisfied  to  watch  me 
as  I  squirmed  over  the  rocks  towards  the  black 
beast  with  a  throat  sac.  In  coloring  and  shape 
they  were  like  crows,  yet  I  knew  they  were  not 
crows ;  something  in  the  shape  of  the  bead  was 
different;  they  did  not  treat  me  as  crows  would 
have  done.     I  felt  that  they  were  strangers. 

When  I  reached  tte  last  rock  which  could  by 
any  chance  shield  my  body  from  the  cormorant, 
I  raised  my  head  very  slowly  until  my  eyes  came 
upon  a  level  with  the  rock's  upper  surface. 
About  twenty  feet  away,  clasping  with  its  hide- 
ous feet  the  last  rock  left  naked  by  the  tide,  sat 
the  shag.  K  seemed  to  me  that  it  might  be  a 
bittern  which,  having  offended  against  the  gods, 
had  been  condemned  to  leave  its  beloved  meadows 
and  thickets,  whispering  rushes  and  perfumed 
grasses,  in  order  to  pass  ages  upon  the  shores  of 
a  sobbing  ocean  in  which  it  should  find  no  peace 
and  no  abiding-place.  Its  garb  looked  as  sack- 
cloth and  ashes  might  well  look  after  a  thorough 
soaking  in  salt  water.  When  it  craned  upwards 
its  skinny  neck  and  panted,  it  reached  the  climax 
of  its  loathsomeness,  for  the  livid  sac  pulsated 
under  its  distressed  breathing.  I  had  watched 
the  horrid  fish-eater  long  enough,  so,  rising  to  my 


INGONISn,  BY  LAND  AND  SEA. 


47 


full  height,  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the 
monster  shrink  into  itself  with  fear,  turn  its 
ugly  countenance  seaward,  and  then  flap  away 
over  the  hot,  sparkling  waves  until  almost  out  of 
sight.  When  half  a  mile  out,  it  turned  and  flew 
slowly  along  the  crest  of  the  waves  towards  the 
rocky  cliffs  of  Middle  Head,  and  then  dropped 
suddenly  into  the  water,  upon  which  it  remained 
bobbing  like  a  duck. 

Free  from  this  incubus,  I  looked  once  more 
upon  the  home  of  the  ravens,  —  the  hunchbacked 
pine,  the  shattered  rocks,  and,  far  above  them, 
the  cliffs  upon  whose  inaccessible  ledges  young 
ravens  first  see  light.  The  surroundings  were 
those  of  a  sturdier  bird  than  the  crow.  There 
were  no  gently  sighing  forests,  waving  corn-fields, 
or  placid  lakes  here,  but  instead  the  stern  crags, 
rude  sea,  and  broken  rocks,  —  makers  of  deep, 
angiy  music,  harsh  discords,  and  wild,  sorrow- 
ful refrains.  The  crow  boasts  from  the  moment 
his  loud  voice  first  comes  back  to  his  ears  from 
the  echoing  hillside,  he  steals  from  the  time  he 
sees  the  corn  blades  start  from  the  furrow,  and 
he  shuns  danger  as  often  as  the  tread  of  man  or 
deer  snaps  a  dry  twig  in  the  forest.  The  raven's 
croak  can  wake  no  echo  to  match  the  sea's  cho- 
rus, his  food  is  not  won  by  theft,  and  dangers 
which  come  from  sky  and  tossing  wave  are  not 
such  as  to  stimulate  craft  or  to  inculcate  wari- 


ness. 


48 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


II. 


I     1 

I  ! 


■ 


;l 


BY  SEA. 

All  day  long  heat  had  quivered  in  the  air  and 
sparkled  on  the  sea,  but  now,  at  evening,  there 
was  coolness  creeping  in  from  the  ocean,  past 
crag  and  sand,  banishing  ennui  and  tightening 
strong  muscles  as  they  tugged  at  the  oars.  The 
coolness  and  the  wind  seemed  to  have  little  to 
do  with  each  other  ;  for  the  wind  was  westerly, 
and  came  down  river  from  the  forest-clad  moun- 
tains, while  the  coolness  came  in  from  the  east 
under  the  deep  shadow  which  the  red  cliffs  of 
Sm  iky  cast  upon  the  bay.  Thump,  thump,  the 
oars  pounded  forward  and  back  upon  the  thole- 
pins, and  the  boat  moved  slowly  forward  inside 
the  bar  towards  the  gut.  The  heavy  sail  did  us 
no  service ;  merely  made  me  more  alone  in  the 
twilight,  as  I  sat  in  the  bow,  with  my  back  to 
the  mast,  and  watched  the  waves  heave  under 
us. 

We  were  turning  our  backs  to  the  hills  now, 
and  heading  straight  out  through  the  gut.  On 
the  right  was  the  lighthouse  with  its  newly 
lit  red  star  glowing  inside  the  polished  lenses. 
Above  it  towered  the  beginning  of  Smoky's 
cliffs,  still  deep  red  in  the  twilight,  or  green 
where  the  forest  far  above  caught  the  last  rays 


IN  G  ON  IS  II,  BY  LAND  AND  SEA. 


49 


of  a  fair  sunset  glow.  On  the  left,  the  long 
beach  and  bar  ended  in  a  pier,  with  fish-houses 
and  boats,  men  smoking,  cod  drying  on  the  flakes, 
lobster  pots  piled  up  for  the  season,  and  collie 
dogs  watching  life  go  by  on  the  tide,  or  dream- 
ing as  they  lay  on  the  dry  nets.  Dead  ahead, 
a  fisherman's  boat  was  coming  in  close  to  the 
pier,  its  oars  splashing  in  the  choppy  sea  where 
inner  and  outer  waters  wrestled  in  the  nar- 
row pass.  Our  oars  thumped  louder,  and  we 
shot  through  the  swirl,  and  out  past  light- 
house, pier,  boats,  rocks,  and  the  residue  of 
land  and  life,  towards  where  the  sea,  the  sky, 
and  Smoky  lived  in  a  great  dream  together. 
Surely  this  place  was  beautiful,  and  to-night,  as 
I  sat  in  the  bow  alone,  the  flapping  sail  behind 
me,  the  rise  and  fall,  the  heave,  surge,  and 
wash  of  the  sea  lent  a  magic  joy  to  tlie  voyage 
we  were  taking  out  to  the  Bill  of  Smoky.  I 
looked  far  ahead  and  strained  my  eyes  to  see 
what  was  beyond;  and  then  I  thought,  what 
matters  it  to  look,  to  strive  to  see  an  end,  a  goal, 
when  there  is  no  end,  no  goal,  to  see  ?  This  is 
no  mountain,  with  ridge  after  ridge  to  surmount, 
and  an  ultimate  peak  to  concpier,  with  all  its 
prizes  of  prostrate  earth  and  nearer  clouds  to 
look  upon.  This  is  only  the  sea  with  its  monoto- 
nous level,  having  in  its  endlessness  no  incen- 
tive to  action,  no  stimulus  to  struggle.      Still  I 


60 


FJiOM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


kept  2fazing  out  into  the  distance,  and  wonder- 
ing whether  some  dim  sail  would  not  appear  in 
the  gloom,  or  some  rock  rise  from  among  the 
billows  for  our  boat  to  break  itself  against. 

As  we  glided  on  our  undulating  path  across 
the  restless  water,  the  dark  mass  of  Cape  Smoky- 
attended  us  on  our  right  like  a  shadow.  The 
waves  splashed  incessantly  upon  the  broken 
ocks  at  the  foot  of  the  cliffs,  and  sometimes  in 
hv3  hollow  of  a  wave  not  far  from  us  a  jagged 
mass  of  rock  flashed  menacingly  for  a  moment 
before  the  water  slid  over  it  again  and  hid  its 
threat  from  our  eyes.  The  hand  of  time  falls 
heavily  upon  the  red  syenite,  and  every  year 
huge  pieces  of  rock  drop  into  the  sea  and  be- 
come the  sport  of  the  tide.  At  one  point  a  but- 
tress of  rock  protruded  into  the  bay,  and  through 
it  I  could  jee  light.  The  busy  waves  and  frosts 
had  carved  an  arch  in  the  stone,  through  which 
birds  could  fly  and  storm  winds  blow.  Far  up 
the  cliff  a  brook,  which  had  worked  patiently 
downward  from  the  soil  on  the  summit  of  the 
mountain,  appeared  in  a  circular  opening,  and 
dashed  its  small  spray  seaward.  Most  brooks 
must  fight  their  way  over  boulders  and  fallen 
trees,  through  dark  ravines,  by  hot  waysides  and 
sleepy  meadows,  at  last  to  win  only  a  right  to 
merge  their  lives  in  the  greater  life  of  the  river. 
This  brook  had  gone  straight  to  its  mother  ocean, 


i^ii 


INGONISn,  BY  LAND  AND  SEA. 


61 


unchecked,  unturned,  and  when  its  clear,  cool 
drops  fell  towards  the  sea  they  were  as  pure 
as  when  they  left  the  sky.  The  brook  seemed 
symbolic  of  some  lives,  which,  though  living  out 
their  appointed  time,  go  back  to  the  source 
of  life  without  ever  having  been  polluted  by 
society,  or  lost  in  its  sullen  and  ill-regolated 
current. 

Thump,  thump,  thump,  the  oars  worked  with 
their  clumsy  rhythm,  urging  us  eastward,  and  out 
towards  the  line  of  rough  water  beyond  the  Bill. 
The  swell  grew  stronger,  and  now  and  then  the 
boat  rose  so  high  or  fell  so  low  that  my  dream 
was  interrupted  by  the  emphasis  of  the  motion. 
Far  behind  us  the  red  eye  of  the  lighthouse 
glared  at  the  mouth  of  the  harbor,  and  marked 
upon  each  wave's  edge  the  path  by  which  we 
had  come,  close  under  the  shelter  of  the  cliffs. 
A  few  strokes  more  and  we  were  abreast  of  the 
Bill,  that  ultimate  wedge  of  rock  which  Smoky 
thrusts  into  the  northern  sea,  piercing  the  cold 
waves,  and  dividing  the  fierce  storm  currents 
beating  down  from  Newfoundland.  The  wind 
was  fresher  in  the  unprotected  sea,  and  the 
lighthouse  with  its  nestling  lights  upon  the  bar 
seemed  much  farther  away  than  it  had  a  mo- 
ment or  two  before.  A  sense  of  loneliness,  al- 
most of  danger,  crept  over  us,  and  by  common 
consent  the  boat  was  turned  backward  into  the 


52 


FROAf  DLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


shelter  of  the  great  rock,  and  the  homeward  voy- 
age begun. 

It  was  now  my  turn  at  the  oar,  and  a  thrill 
passed  through  me  as  I  grasped  the  great  sweep 
and  wrestled  over  it  with  the  waves.  Night  had 
fallen.  All  color  had  died  on  the  red  cliffs  of 
Smoky.  Stars  had  burned  their  way  into  the 
dark  blue  sky,  and  among  them  stray  meteors 
fell  seaward,  or  glided  athwart  the  constellations. 
A  year  before,  I  had  si)ent  the  long  hours  of 
the  night  on  the  peak  of  Chocorua,  watching 
these  wayward  waifs  of  space  as  they  danced 
behind  the  cloud  curtains  of  the  storm.  Now, 
with  all  a  Viking's  zeal,  I  tugged  at  my  big  oar, 
pounded  my  tholepin,  made  deep  eddies  chase 
each  other  in  the  dark  water,  and  breathed  joy- 
ously deep  breaths  of  the  salt  northern  air. 
What  contrasts  man  may  make  for  himself,  in 
his  life,  if  he  yields  to  the  spirit  of  restlessness 
within  him !  The  Vikings  yielded  to  it,  and 
swept  the  northern  seas,  and  I  felt  in  my  weak 
arms  something  of  their  strength  and  wanton- 
ness as  I  urged  the  boat  homewards  under 
Smoky's  shadow.  Black  rocks,  placid  sea,  bright 
stars,  dancing  meteors,  and  breath  of  the  north- 
ern ocean,  —  I  had  them  all,  even  as  the  Norse- 
men had  them. 

A  faint  protest  came  from  the  other  side  of 
the  boat.     AVe  were  not  rowing  a  race  ;  there 


IN  G  ON  IS  II,  BY  LAND  AND  SEA. 


53 


was  no  hurry ;  and  if  I  cut  inshore  any  farther 
we  should  go  on  the  rocks.  So  I  eased  my 
frantic  stroke,  and  watched  the  phosphorescence 
play  in  my  oars'  eddies.  In  the  sky,  bright 
masses  ploughed  their  way  through  our  air,  im- 
pelled by  an  unknown  force,  driven  from  an 
unknown  distance,  and  aiming  for  an  unknown 
fate.  In  the  sea,  bright  atoms  ploughed  their 
way  through  the  water  and  glowed  in  soft 
splendor.  The  meteors  are  inorganic,  deavl 
mysteries.  The  phosphorescence  is  an  organic, 
living  mystery.  Yet  it  is  no  more  impossible  to 
imagine  the  history  and  future  of  a  body  per- 
petually traveling  through  endless  space  than 
to  try  to  count  the  numbers  of  these  phosphor- 
escent myriads.  Generally  I  have  the  feeling 
that  science  is  bringing  us  nearer  to  a  perception 
of  what  the  vast  creation  is  which  surrounds 
us,  but  at  times  the  greater  truth  flashes  before 
my  eyes,  —  that  what  we  are  really  learning  is 
not  more  than  a  drop  in  the  limitless  ocean  of 
fact. 

The  row  back  to  the  lighthouse  seemed 
shorter  than  the  voyage  out,  partly  because  we 
really  went  faster,  and  partly  because  we  had 
less  detail  to  look  at,  now  that  the  night  had 
covered  the  beauties  of  the  many-toned  cliffs 
and  the  distant  mountains.  When  we  shot 
through  the  gut  from  the  bay  to  the  inner  basin, 


54 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


the  air  became  damper  and  the  darkness  more 
intense.  With  caution  and  frequent  peering 
ahead  we  rowed  towards  the  creek  in  which  we 
were  to  land.  Here  a  shoal  had  to  be  avoided, 
there  a  fisherman's  boat  passed  by. 

Now  in  the  gloom  we  could  discern  a  mass 
of  willows  in  which  the  kingfishers  had  been 
sounding  their  loud  call  during  the  day,  and  be- 
yond them  loomed  up  the  timbers  of  the  old 
mill  whose  wreck  was  to  be  our  pier.  Poor  old 
mill,  it  had  been  starved  to  death  by  tariffs,  a 
grim  punishment  for  its  slaughter  of  many  a 
good  king  of  the  forest.  We  landed,  and  in  the 
soft  stillness  made  our  stumbling  way  across 
field  and  pasture  to  the  cosy  Ingonish  parlor, 
where,  in  strange  contrast  to  rugged  coast,  and 
stern  mountain,  and  the  general  simplicity  of 
the  fishermen's  hovises  on  the  shore,  we  had 
found  refinement,  comfort,  and  open  hospitality. 

Beyond  the  great  wall  of  rounded  stones, 
raised  by  ice  and  storm,  lay  the  beach.  The 
rippling  waves  played  softly  upon  the  firm  sand, 
making  dainty  lines  across  it.  We  could  hear 
the  murmur  of  those  waves  and  the  faint  rustle 
of  the  breeze  in  the  shrubbery.  All  was  peace 
and  gentleness,  yet  under  that  kindly  music 
those  who  knew  Ingonish  Bay  could  hear  other 
voices.  High  in  the  air  the  powers  of  the  storm 
were  holding  council,  and  deep  in  the  sea  the 


pmsa.;jd 


i 


INGONISn,  BY  LAND  AND  SEA.  55 

tides  were  planning  to  hurl  themselves  upon  the 
shore.  It  is  always  so  by  the  northern  ocean ; 
and  when  the  waves  break  most  lovingly  upon 
Smoky,  the  old  mountain  and  his  children  the 
fishermen  are  most  alert  for  the  tempest  which 
IS  to  follow. 


[ 


THE  HOME  OF  GLOOSCAP. 

There  are  siren  voices  at  Ingonish.  I  can  say 
this  with  confidence,  because  I  heard  one,  and  it 
rings  in  my  ears  now,  and  will  ring  there  as 
long  as  memory  lasts.  I  was  lying  on  the  sun- 
lit sand  outside  the  cobblestone  wall  of  Ingonish 
South  Bay  beach,  dreaming.  To  my  right  rose 
the  red,  forest-capped  wall  of  Smoky,  on  my 
left  was  Middle  Head,  and  behind  me  many  a 
mountain  side  walled  in  the  valley.  Suddenly, 
the  heavens,  the  bluffs,  and  the  mountains  gave 
out  a  sound  which  made  my  heart  stand  still. 
It  had  the  force  of  thunder  and  the  pitch  of 
agony.  I  was  told  afterwards  that  the  first  time 
the  sound  startled  Ingonish  was  at  night,  and 
that  people  fled  from  their  houses  or  fell  upon 
their  knees,  thinking  the  day  of  reckoning  had 
come.  Springing  to  my  feet,  I  saw,  coming 
slowly  past  the  cliffs  of  Smoky  and  towards  the 
lighthouse  at  the  pier,  a  good-sized  steamer.  It 
was  the  Harlaw,  from  Halifax  via  the  Bras  d'Or 
lakes,  on  her  way  to  Newfoundland.  As  I  lay 
upon  the  sand,  I  had  been  dreaming  of  a  voyage 
across  those  sixty  miles  of  sea  to  the  rock-bound 


.  __r 


I 


THE  HOME   OF  GLOOSCAP. 


57 


(1 


island  just  out  of  sight  below  the  ocean  s  cheek. 
The  Harlaw's  siren  had  banished  the  dream  in 
more  senses  than  one.  To  take  the  steamer  now 
was  impossible,  and  only  by  that  steamer  could 
I  go  to  Newfoundland. 

The  next  morning,  consequently,  we  turned 
our  faces  towards  home,  and  started  southward. 
Mr.  Gillies  also  turned  his  face  towards  home, 
and  started  southward ;  the  difference  being 
that  in  his  case  home  was  at  Ingonish,  north- 
ward, and  that  he  faced  it  across  a  painful  snarl 
of  his  own  legs  and  arms,  as  he  hung  for  dear 
life  to  the  back  of  the  wagon-seat,  while  I  wal- 
loped his  thin  horse  and  enjoyed  the  comforts  of 
the  driver's  cushion.  Over  the  ferry,  up  Smoky, 
away  from  the  home  of  the  raven  and  the  sweet 
charms  of  Ingonish,  on,  on,  on  we  went,  mile 
after  mile,  vmtil  the  thin  horse  wearied  of  life, 
and  the  snarls  in  Mr.  Gillies's  legs  caused  him 
to  groan  aloud.  At  times  I  ventured  on  conver- 
sation with  Mr.  Gillies.  When  I  spoke,  and 
my  quavering  intonations  reached  his  ears,  a  re- 
verberating "  Sorr-r-r  ?  "  was  usually  hurled  at 
me  with  such  force  as  to  banish,  momentarily, 
all  idea  of  what  it  was  I  meant  to  say.  An 
opinion  from  me  was  always  indorsed  by  Mr. 
Gillies  in  one  of  two  ways  :  warmly,  by  "  Jist ;  '* 
less  confidently,  by  "Aye  —  yi  —  yi,"  uttered 
with  outward  fervor.     In  an  endeavor  to  learn 


58 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


I 


i 


something  of  the  fauna  of  the  country,  I  in- 
quired whether  the  porcupine  was  found  near 
Ingonish.  Gillies  assented  promptly.  I  then 
asked  how  much  one  weighed  when  full  grown. 
This  staggered  him,  but  after  a  pause  he  said, 
*'  Which  kind  of  pine  was  you  speaking  of, 
sorr  ?  " 

Mr.  Gillies's  horse  was  not  endearing  in  his 
qualities.  In  the  first  place,  he  was  named 
"Frank,"  a  circumstance  I  mentally  resented; 
but  what  was  more  to  the  point,  he  had  an  evi- 
dent desire  to  si)ill  us  over  the  steepest  bank 
he  could  find.  When  we  were  passing  a  most 
dangerous  unfenced  slide  on  Smoky,  where  a 
misstep  meant  a  plunge  hundreds  of  feet  down 
into  a  rocky  ravine,  Gillies  regaled  us  with  a 
story  of  Frank's  overturning  the  Gillies  family 
on  a  river  bank,  "  breaking  the  sleigh  to  pieces 
all  right,"  and  then  bolting  for  home.  As 
Frank  and  his  wagon  constituted  the  only  con- 
veyance within  twenty  miles  that  could  carry 
three  persons,  it  was  not  alone  love  of  life  which 
made  me  watch  the  beast  with  unceasing  soli- 
citude. Thanks  to  vigilance  and  the  whip,  he 
carried  us  down  Smoky,  past  Big  Rory's,  Sandy 
McDonald's,  and  so  on  to  the  valley  of  Indian 
Brook,  where  we  planned  to  "  stay  the  night " 
at  Angus  McDonald's.  Standing  on  the  bridge 
above  Indian  Brook,  we  saw  the  best  fisherman 


THE  no  ME  OF  G  LOOS  CAP. 


59 


on  the  North  Shore  casting  his  sixty-foot  line 
with  unerring  hand  over  the  dark  pool  from 
which  he  had  just  taken  a  throe-pound  trout. 
In  his  creel  lay  also  a  five-pound  trout,  find  his 
man  whispered  to  us  that  a  ten-pound  sahnon 
had  been  taken  by  the  same  magic  line  that 
morning.  Battles  between  big  salmon,  or  trout, 
and  man  armed  with  his  cobweb  line  and  tiny 
hook  command  admiration,  but  they  make  the 
inane  hooking  of  six-inch  trout  in  our  New 
England  brooks  seem  contemptible. 

The  next  morning  I  was  up  and  dressed  at 
half  past  three,  standing  on  Angus  McDonald's 
doorstep,  and  rejoicing  in  the  sense  of  lightness, 
purity,  and  strength  whi(;h  comes  at  dawn. 
When  Gabriel  blows  his  trumpet,  I  hope  he  will 
select  the  moment  before  sunrise  for  his  sum- 
mons. 

Eastward,  the  placid  sea  reached  away  to- 
wards Newfoundland,  St.  Pierre,  and  the  red 
sun.  Newfoimdland  and  St.  Pierre  were  hiding 
behind  the  curve  of  the  sea,  but  the  sun  was 
climbing  above  it,  and  peering,  dim-eyed,  through 
the  fog.  Westward,  beyond  a  dew-drenched 
swale,  rose  the  hills  covered  with  balsam,  black 
spruce,  and  white  spruce.  Darkness  still  ])er- 
vaded  the  woods,  for  the  sun  was  too  dim  to 
illuminate  their  pinnacles,  or  evon  to  gild  the 
sea  or  tint  the  sails  of   the  fishing-smacks,  al- 


7 


'I 

■I 

'I 


t 


60 


FiZOJf  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


ready  several  miles  from  shore.  Sheep  and  cows 
stood  in  the  curving  meadow,  and  a  young  bull, 
their  leader,  looked  at  me  more  sleepily  than 
sullenly  as  I  passed  him.  The  dew  was  cold  on 
the  grass,  and  it  soaked  my  feet ;  but  the  dew 
and  its  chill  were  part  of  the  hour,  so  serene 
j?nd  pure,  quite  as  much  as  were  the  whistle  of 
a  crossbill  which  flew  past  overhead,  and  the 
matins  of  the  juncos  which  they  were  singing  in 
their  forest  cloisters.  I  crossed  the  meadow, 
and  followed  the  road  through  the  spruces  and 
over  the  bridge  above  Indian  Brook.  A  narrow 
footpath  led  from  the  farther  end  of  the  bridge 
up  the  northern  bank  of  the  stream.  Now  it 
passed  through  groves  so  dark  and  silent  that 
night  seemed  still  supreme ;  then  it  came  out 
into  twilight  at  the  edge  of  the  bank  above  the 
water,  and  showed  me  that,  little  by  little,  it 
was  climbing  above  the  pools  and  rapids  as  it 
followed  the  channel  back  into  the  mountains. 

After  walking  for  half  an  hour,  I  came  to  a 
sharp  bend  in  the  river,  which  had  previously  been 
flowing  east,  but  which  here  came  from  the 
north,  emerging  from  between  steep  cliffs,  to  roar 
and  foam  over  a  sloping  bed  of  broken  rock. 
Above  the  music  of  the  rapids  I  could  hear  the 
splash  of  a  cascade,  and  by  peering  through  the 
trees  I  could  see  the  white  form  of  a  waterfall, 
half  concealed  by  the  foliage  on  the  other  bank. 


11  i 


THE  HOME  OF  GLOOS'^AP. 


61 


A  tributary  stream  approached  Indian  Brook  at 
this  point,  and  fell  from  a  hilltop  into  a  mossy 
basin  among  the  large  trees  on  the  western  shore. 
To  gain  a  nearer  view  of  its  beauty,  I  clambered 
and  slid  down  the  high,  steep  bank,  to  the  brow 
of  whicli  the  path  had  brought  me.  On  reaching 
the  level  of  the  water,  I  realized  more  fully  the 
nature  of  the  pla«e  I  was  in.  High  forest-clad 
hills  rose  on  every  side,  inclosing  the  river,  so 
that  its  only  method  of  escape  was  through  deep 
rifts  cut  into  their  slopes.  The  part  of  the  stream 
which  I  had  followed  consisted  of  broad  and  deep 
pools  of  brownish  water  alternating  with  raj^ids. 
Sometimes  one  bank  was  of  rock,  and  the  other 
of  gravel ;  sometimes  both  shores,  although  steep, 
were  wooded  almost  to  the  edge  of  the  current. 

Looking  upstream,  I  saw  that  the  scenery 
above  me  was  even  more  striking  than  that  below. 
The  river  came  from  between  abrupt  rocky  walls. 
Its  waters  were  deep,  slow,  and  foam-flecked. 
They  came  out  of  a  vale  of  shadows,  and  I  knew, 
on  the  word  of  an  Ingonish  fisherman,  that  some- 
where within  those  shadows  there  was  a  water- 
fall, singularly  beautiful,  though  unknown  save 
to  a  few. 

Directly  in  front  of  me,  the  story  of  the  river 
seemed  to  be  told  on  a  small  scale.  Far  up 
against  the  sky  was  a  dip  or  notch  in  the  moim- 
tain  wall.     Through  it  came   the  brook  which 


i 


I 


•w 


■ 


'Jl 


» 


02 


FROM  BLOMIDON   TO  SMOKY. 


joined  the  river  at  my  feet.  To  reach  this  lower 
level  the  dancing  waters  must  fall  as  many  yards 
as  they  advanced.  Their  last  leap  made  the  cas- 
cade whose  splashing  filled  the  glen  with  music. 
I  forded  the  icy  river,  and  entered  the  chamber 
in  the  side  of  the  western  bank  which  held  the 
cascade,  and  its  screen  of  trees,  ferns,  and  mosses. 
Since  leaving  the  open  meadow  by  the  sea  and 
enteriiig  the  dark  forest,  I  had  felt  the  spell  of 
the  wilderness  resting  upon  me,  the  sense  of  age, 
beauty,  purity,  persistent  force ;  all  existing  or 
working  without  man's  knowledge  or  approval, 
yet  being  the  very  essence  of  this  dewy  land  of 
twilight.  On  coming  to  this  grotto  of  rushing 
waters.  Nature  seemed  for  the  moment  to  find  a 
voice  with  which  to  tell  of  her  wonderful  power. 
The  falling  spray  was  singing  of  the  sea  from 
which  it  had  been  taken  into  heaven,  and  to  which 
it  was  hastening  back  after  a  new  life.  Its  cycle 
is  but  the  emblem  of  all  ebbing  and  flowing  life. 
The  spell  of  the  wilderness  grew  stronger  upon  me, 
and  when,  suddenly,  I  thought  how  many  wearied 
souls  there  were  in  great  cities  who  would  love  to 
see  this  beautiful,  hidden  spot,  something  akin  to 
shame  for  my  own  race  came  also  into  my  mind. 
If  man  came  here,  would  he  not  destroy  ?  His 
foot  would  trample,  his  hand  deface,  and  finally 
he  would  cut  down  the  firs,  blast  out  the  rock, 
choke  the  salmon  with  sawdust,   and  leave  the 


THE  HOME   OF  GLOOSCAP. 


63 


glen  to  fire  and  the  liriers  which  follow  flame. 
It  is  always  so ;  those  of  us  who  love  nature  and 
the  beautiful  are  only  the  few,  sure  to  be  thrust 
aside  by  the  many  who  value  bread  or  riches 
higher  than  the  fair  earth's  bloom. 

Leaving  the  cascade,  I  climbed  the  hill  over 
which  it  fell,  until  I  reached  a  level  terrace  about 
two  hundred  feet  above  the  river  bed.  There 
was  no  path  here,  so  I  simply  pushed  on  north- 
ward, following  the  general  direction  of  the  gorge, 
and  listening  for  the  heavy  rumble  of  Indian 
Brook  Falls.  The  forest  through  which  I  was 
walking  closely  resembled  northern  New  Hamp- 
shire timber.  Here  were  white  spruces  with 
long,  slender,  light-colored  cones  pointing  down- 
wards ;  black  spruces  with  dark  cones,  also  pend- 
ent ;  balsam  firs  with  erect  purplish  cones  ;  hem- 
locks, pines,  yellow  birches,  big,  clean-limbed 
beeches,  a  few  maples  and  poplars,  and  the  moun- 
tain ash.  I  saw  juniper,  but  no  hobblebush. 
Hastening  through  the  dimly  lighted  vistas,  I 
was  startled  by  a  loud,  angry  cry  which  rang  out 
suddenly  among  the  treetops.  I  stopped,  and 
peered  upwards.  Another  scream  echoed  from 
the  hills,  and  two  great  birds  with  fierce  and 
eager  eyes  swooped  towards  me,  pausing  among 
the  branches  to  watch  me  with  hostile  curiosity. 
Their  coloring  and  size  made  me  confident  that 
they   were   goshawks.     When  a  smaller  hawk, 


64 


FROM  BLOMTDON  TO  SMOKY. 


« 


ill 


holding  a  squirrel  in  its  clutch,  flew  into  a  neigh- 
boring tree,  one  of  the  goshawks  hurled  itself 
upon  the  intruder  and  drove  it  from  view.  They 
would  have  liked  to  expel  me  in  the  same  way, 
and  their  startling  cries  and  resentment  made  me 
feel  as  though  I  had  no  place  or  part  in  their 
great  solitude.  Nevertheless  I  pushed  on,  feel- 
ing somewhat  as  one  does  who  invades  a  cathedral 
by  night,  and  hears  his  clumsy  footsteps  protested 
by  the  echoes  in  the  vaulted  roof. 

An  hour  and  a  half,  or  more,  after  leaving 
Angus  McDonald's,  I  heard  the  booming  sound 
of  the  Indian  Brook  Falls.  Pushing  through  the 
last  screen  of  fallen  timber  and  underbrush,  I 
gained  the  crumbling  edge  of  cliff  overhanghig 
the  river.  Far  beneath,  the  foam-flecked  water 
crept  along  the  bottom  of  a  dark,  narrow  caiion. 
It  passed  away  southward  between  lofty  walls  of 
rock,  above  which  stood  the  forest  and  the  higher 
slopes  of  the  mountains.  The  space  into  which  I 
was  looking  was  a  vast,  circular  pit,  a  pothole  of 
enormous  size  worn  in  the  rock  by  whirling  water 
during  unnumbered  ages.  Its  height  seemed 
to  be  as  great  as  its  diameter,  and  either  would 
be  measured  by  hundreds  of  feet.  Although  at 
high  water  Indian  Brook  doubtless  covers  the 
whole  bottom  of  this  punch  bowl,  at  this  time 
along,  K.3nder  sand  spit  projected  from  the  west- 
ern wall  to  the  middle  of  the  dark  brown  pool. 


' 


THE  HOME  OF  GLOOSCAP. 


66 


It  was  an  index  finger  pointing  towards  the 
falls,  whose  solemn  music  made  sky  and  moun- 
tain vibrate  in  perpetual  unison. 

The  northern  curve  of  the  rock  basin's  wall 
was  broken  by  a  narrow,  perpendicular  rift  reach- 
ing from  the  sky  down  to  within  sixty  or  eighty 
feet  of  the  surface  of  the  pool.  This  was  the 
door  through  which  Indian  Brook  had,  since  the 
time  of  glaciers,  sprung  from  the  bosom  of  the 
mountain,  and  by  which  it  was  now  pouring  its 
compressed  mass,  with  a  single  motion,  into  the 
dark  depths  of  the  basin.  Looking  through 
the  rift,  I  could  discern  only  a  few  yards  of  flat 
water  racing  towards  its  fall,  and  black  walls  of 
rock  scowling  upon  the  mad  stream  which  swept 
past  them.  These  walls  rose  to  meet  the  spruce 
forest ;  the  forest  sloped  far  upwards  to  meet  the 
pale  blue  sky,  and  the  slender  points  of  the  high- 
est trees  were  now  faintly  touched  by  the  morn- 
ing sun.  There  was  no  trace  of  man  in  this  soli- 
tude, yet  it  was  eloquent  with  beauty  and  power. 
What  the  high  altar  is  to  the  dimly  lighted  ca- 
thedral, this  hollow  in  the  heart  of  the  Cape 
Breton  hills  is  to  the  wilderness  which  surrounds 
it.  The  altar  is  the  focus  for  every  eye,  every 
moving  lip,  every  prayerful  heart.  This  vale 
of  falling  waters  is  the  focus  of  the  beautiful 
lines  of  the  mountains,  down  which  sunlight 
and  shadows  steal  in  turn,  along  which  brooks 


m 


66 


FROM  liLOMinON  TO  SMOKY. 


m 


« 


!■!  ilr 


hurry  to  the  river,  and  through  which  the  mov- 
ing life  of  the  forest  takes  its  way.  The  ancient 
hemlock  bends  towards  it,  the  falling  boulder 
plunges  downwards  to  it,  and  the  wind  coming 
through  the  embrasures  and  over  the  ramparts  of 
the  mountains,  blows  to  it,  ruffling  the  treetops 
in  passing.  The  altar  is  the  focus  of  man's  senses 
and  thoughts,  but  it  is  only  an  emblem  even  to 
him.  This  scene  of  beauty  is  a  focus  oi  Nature's 
deepest  and  purest  life ;  and  though  in  it  man 
has  no  place,  it  does  not  on  that  account  lack  mean- 
ing or  significance.  Man  is  a  masterful  figure 
in  the  drama  of  creation,  but  he  is  not  all,  nor 
even  half,  what  the  world  has  long  been  taught 
to  consider  him.  Perhaps  he  has  been  studied 
too  much ;  certainly  Nature,  unspoiled  by  his 
greed,  has  not  been  studied  enough  or  loved 
enough.  Standing  alone  in  that  fair  solitude,  as 
much  alone  as  on  some  atoll  in  a  distant  sea,  I 
felt  as  though  I  might  know  man  better,  see  him 
in  stronger  contrasts  and  clearer  lights,  if  I  could 
live  apart  from  him  longer  in  such  still,  calm, 
holy  places  as  Indian  Brook  caiion. 

As  I  walked  swiftly  back  to  Angus  McDon- 
ald's, the  sunlight  grew  strong  in  the  woods,  and 
shone  kindly  on  the  amber  waters  of  the  river. 
A  hot  day  was  beginning,  and  I  sighed  to  think 
of  the  twenty-five  mile  drive  to  Baddeok,  —  sighed 
not  only  on  my  own  account,  but  on  account  of 


' 


■P^ 


THE  IlOAfE   OF  GLOOSCAP. 


67 


Gillies's  legs  and  back,  bent  and  doubled  under 
the  seat,  and  on  account  of  the  horse  Frank,  and 
the  whip.  Something  which  had  pervaded  the 
woods  in  the  early  morning  twilight  had  gone 
out  of  them  now.  The  enchantment  of  the  wil- 
derness seemed  left  behind,  localized  in  and  near 
those  beautiful  falls.  Scolded  by  Hudson's  Bay 
chickadees  and  three-toed  woodpeckers,  I  hurried 
on  to  the  highway,  the  meadow,  and  the  view  of 
the  sparkling  sea.  Yes,  Frank  was  already  har- 
nessed, and  the  twenty-five  mile  drive  waiting  to 
be  begun. 

When  Frank  brought  us  to  the  valley  of  the 
Barasois,  we  decided  to  turn  inland,  avoiding 
Torquil  McLean's  ferry,  Englishtown,  and  the 
east  side  of  St.  Anne's  Bay,  in  order  to  see  the 
picturesque  North  River  country,  which  could  be 
reached  by  ascending  the  Barasois  a  few  miles, 
and  then  passing  behind  St.  Anne's  Mountain, 
so  as  to  approach  the  bay  from  the  westward. 
This  we  did  successfully,  and  arrived  at  Baddeck 
by  supper  time.  The  bridge  by  which  this  road 
crosses  North  River  is  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able objects  in  Cape  Breton.  Fairly  good  roads 
characterize  the  neighborhood.  They  are  good 
enough  to  lead  a  drivei  to  expect  sound  bridges, 
but  instead  he  finds  death-traps.  This  particu- 
lar bridge  is  very  long,  and  upon  much  of  it  the 
flooring  is  laid  parallel  to  the  direction  of  the 


68 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


=  ?"r  • 


i     I 


I 


bridge.  The  ancient  planks  have  decayed,  until 
many  holes  have  been  made  in  them  large  enough 
for  a  horse's  foot  to  pass  through,  while  in  long 
sections  of  the  bridge  the  spaces  between  the 
planks  are  so  wide  that  first  one  wheel,  and  then 
another,  sli23S  down,  until  the  hub  strikes.  Need- 
less to  say,  we  walked  across  that  bridge,  while 
Gillies  and  Frank  danced  and  pranced  onward 
before  us  ;  Gillies  distracted  to  keep  his  toes  away 
from  Frank's  hoofs,  and  Frank  distracted  to  keep 
his  hoofs  away  from  the  holes  in  the  planks. 

The  next  two  days  were  rainy :  Sunday,  while 
we  rested  in  Baddeck,  and  Monday,  when  we 
bade  farewell  to  the  Bras  d'Or.  In  a  drizzle  we 
steamed  from  Baddeck  to  Grand  Narrows,  —  I 
recall  a  flock  of  ducklings  swimming  madly  away 
from  the  steamer ;  we  breakfasted  at  the  Nar- 
rows,—  I  remember  seeing  a  heron  catching 
frogs  in  a  meadow  ;  in  a  drizzle  we  crossed  the 
Strait  of  Canso,  —  I  recall  a  group  of  young 
Micmac  Indians  coasting  down  a  slippery  bank 
to  the  water's  edge,  crawling  up  and  coasting 
(that  is,  sitting^  down  again,  until  fog  hid 
them  from  us,  and  us  from  them ;  still  in  driz- 
zle we  passed  Tracadie  with  its  Trappist  monas- 
tery, and  Antigonish  with  the  pretentious  cathe- 
dral of  the  Bishop  of  Arichat ;  in  drizzle  hours 
came  and  hours  went,  until,  late  in  the  afternoon, 
we   passed   through   the  Cobequid   Mountains, 


-1^1 


THE  HOME  OF  GLOOSCAP. 


69 


which  I  recall  as  gaunt  hillsides  swept  by  cloud, 
steam,  smoke,  and  stinging  rain ;  and  then  we 
were  dropped  in  the  wilderness,  near  a  dirty 
tavern,  at  a  place  called  Springhill  Junction. 

Drizzle  and  cinders  were  here,  too ;  but  my 
mind  awoke  from  a  semi-comatose  condition  as 
soon  as  we  left  the  train.  The  possibility  of 
having  to  spend  a  night  at  the  Lome,  or  the 
Forlorn,  or  whatever  the  terrible  tavern  was 
called,  revived  my  rain-sodden  faculties,  and  I 
began  to  ask  questions :  "  Is  there  a  train  away 
from  here  to-night  ?  "     "  Yes,  one  to  Springhill." 


"  How    soon    will    it 


go 


»> 


"  Don't    know ; 


when  the  conductor  pleases,  or  when  he  is  wired 
to  go."  Then  I  found  the  conductor.  "  How 
soon  do  you  start  ?  "  "  Don't  know.  Am  waiting 
for  orders."  "Why  not  start  now?"  "Train 
two  hours  late  from  St.  John  ;  may  have  to  wait 
for  it."  "  Will  you  wait  until  I  get  supper  ?  " 
"  Oh,  yes,  certainly.     Go  ahead  ;  no  hurry." 

After  supper  we  entered  our  train,  which  con- 
sisted of  a  big  engine  and  one  car,  which  was 
baggage  and  third-class  combined.  We  were  at 
the  mercy  of  the  Cumberland  Coal  Company, 
which  owns  a  bit  of  road  running  from  its  mines 
at  Springhill  north  five  miles  to  meet  the  Inter- 
colonial rails  in  the  wilderness  where  we  were 
waiting,  and  south  twenty-seven  miles  to  Parrs- 
boro  on   the  Basin  of   Minas,  near   Blomidon. 


70 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


Darkness  was  coming,  yet  still  we  waited.  Pres- 
ently a  message  came.  The  coal  king  or  his 
viceroy  had  perhaps  finished  his  supper,  and 
remembered  to  release  us.  Yes,  we  were  to  wait 
no  longer  for  the  Moncton  train,  but  to  start  for 
Springhill.  The  road  was  ballasted  with  soft 
coal  dust;  even  the  hollows  were  filled  with 
wasted  fuel,  which  was  cheaper  for  the  purpose 
than  gravel.  The  conductor  came  in,  and  I 
asked  him  about  Springhill.  What  was  it  like  ? 
"  A  coal-mining  town,  with  thousands  of  miners, 
pits,  shafts,  dirt,  poverty,  and  the  memory  of 
the  horror  of  three  years  ago,  when  scores  of 
widows  and  hundreds  of  fatherless  children  wept 
and  wailed  round  the  pit  mouths  after  the  explo- 
sion which  suffocated  their  bread-winning  hus- 
bands and  fathers."  "  And  must  we  stay  there 
all  night?"  He  hesitated.  "  Perhaps  not ;  an 
engine  may  be  run  down  to  Parrsboro  with  some 
freight  cars.  But  the  lady?"  and  he  looked 
inquiringly  at  my  wife. 

Soon,  through  the  dismal  rain  and  smoke,  we 
saw  the  flaring  lights  near  the  pits,  and  heard 
the  throbbing  heart  of  the  great  mine-pump.  A 
few  dim  lamps  burned  in  streets  or  dingy  win- 
dows, but  the  town  looked  smothered  in  wet  coal 
dust  and  misery.  A  whisper  came  in  my  ear,  — 
*'  Better  to  ride  to  Parrsboro  on  the  engine  than 
to  spend  a  night  here ;  "  and  my  heart  assented. 


THE  HOME   OF  GLOOSCAP. 


71 


We  and  our  trimk  were  turned  out  upon  the 
dirty  platform,  and  lanterns  were  held  close  to 
us,  while  Springhill  inspected  its  unwilling 
guests.  I  pleaded  with  the  railway  men,  the 
conductor,  the  engineer,  and  the  fireman.  Might 
we  not  ride  on  the  engine,  in  a  freight  car,  some- 
where, anywhere,  rather  than  stay  here?  They 
consented,  and  an  engine  came  clanging  out  of 
the  blackness,  with  a  freight  car  ? '  )d.  Into 
this  freight  car  we  and  our  trunl  .  put,  and 

left  there  in  utter  darkness,  alone  witn  the  steam- 
steed,  and  he  ready  to  leap  southward  on  his 
wet  rails  the  moment  hand  touched  the  lever. 
The  rain  splashed  on  the  roof,  wind  wailed 
through  sheds  and  cars  near  us,  flames  flickered 
round  the  pit's  mouth,  and  the  throbbing  piunp 
kept  on  with  its  wearisome  pulsation,  until  our 
hearts  and  lungs  seemed  forced  to  keep  time 
with  its  rhythm.  Then  a  lonesome  watchman 
came  and  talked  to  us,  and  left  a  lantern,  which 
sputtered,  smoked,  and  went  out.  After  a  long 
interval  a  big  miner  came  and  sat  with  us.  He 
told  grewsome  tales  of  the  explosion.  "  Them 
doctors  they  had  were  to  blame  for  many  a  good 
man's  death.  They  looked  at  the  boys  as  they 
hoisted  them  up  from  the  pit,  and  said  '  Dead,' 
when  they  was  n't  no  more  dead  than  we  be  this 
night.  They  did  n't  know  what  they  was  talk- 
in'  about.     Some  of  us  took  a  young  fellow  they 


w^ 


72 


FROM  DLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY, 


said  was  dead,  and  we  covered  him  over  with 
dust  and  let  him  lie  till  the  damp  was  drawn 
out  of  him,  and  he  's  walkin'  round  with  the  best 
of  us  to-day.  The  damp  was  in  them,  —  that 
was  all,  —  and  the  doctors  did  not  know  how  to 
didrt  it  out." 

The  man's  deep  voice  was  full  of  mournful 
feeling,  the  darkness  added  pathos  to  his  story, 
and  the  pump  with  its  never-ending  beat  seemed 
to  bear  witness  to  all  he  said.  More  than  an 
hour  had  passed,  and  still  we  sat  and  waited ; 
but  the  end  was  near.  The  engineer  passed, 
and  gave  a  word  of  cheer.  Then  the  conductor 
climbed  in  beside  us,  and  we  were  off.  It  might 
have  been  down  the  bottomless  pit's  own  mouth 
that  we  were  tearing,  for  all  that  eye  or  ear  could 
tell.  Forest  hemmed  us  in,  and  intense  dark- 
ness hung  over  us.  Occasionally,  when  coal 
was  hurled  into  the  fire,  a  spasm  of  red  light 
passed  over  the  whizzmg  gloom  outside  ;  but  it 
only  made  our  eyeballs  weary,  for  we  could  dis- 
tinguish nothing.  Perhaps  we  vvent  a  mile  a 
minute;  perhaps  not.  Freight  cars  have  no 
tender  springs,  yet  the  motion  was  not  especially 
uncomfortable  until  we  began  to  slow  up  on 
nearing  Parrsboro.  Then  dislocation  was  threat- 
ened ;  but  a  moment  later  we  were  using  our 
trunk  as  a  step  to  dismount  on,  and  saying  a 
cheerful  good-night  to  our  companions. 


THE  HOME  OF  GLOOSCAP. 


73 


Parraboro  harbor  at  low  tide  is  a  sight  to  be- 
hokl.  Coining  from  the  Bras  d'Or,  where  the 
tide  rises  only  a  few  inohes,  to  the  head  of  the 
Bay  of  Fimdy,  where  it  rises  thirty  feet,  made 
us  feel  as  though  something  must  be  wrong  with 
us  or  the  moon.  The  wharves  reared  themselves 
upon  a  forest  of  slimy  piles,  and  far  below  them, 
reclining  in  all  kinds  of  postures  upon  the  mud, 
were  sailing-vessels  of  various  sizes.  A  schooner, 
ready  for  launching  at  two  p.  M.,  was  perched 
upon  such  a  height  that  it  was  easier  to  believe 
that  it  was  to  be  launched  into  space  than  into 
water  which  was  to  come  from  some  unknown 
point,  and  in  a  few  hours  fill  this  empty  harbor 
to  its  brim.  However,  the  tide  came  in,  not  like 
a  tidal  wave,  with  a  solid  front,  a  hiss,  a  roar 
and  rush,  as  I  had  always  imagined  Fundy  tides 
to  appear,  but  little  by  little,  as  though  it  were 
trying  to  catch  us  unawares  in  its  horrid  depths. 
Of  course  we  saw  the  launch,  and  felt  a  thrill  as 
the  clumsy  little  tub  darted  down  the  greased 
track,  and  became  rather  a  graceful  creature 
when  fairly  afloat.  The  tub's  first  step  in  the 
world  was  not  wholly  dignified.  When  the  last 
prop  had  been  knocked  from  under  her,  and  she 
still  sat  motionless  in  her  bed  of  cold  grease,  the 
master  workman  cried  out,  "  Shake  her  up, 
boys !  "  And  forthwith  the  five-and-twenty  ur- 
chins on  her  decks  rushi 


up 


gin 


§' 


If 


74 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


'  --i 


swayed  and  yelled,  until  their  kicking  gave  the 
desired  start  to  her  career. 

The  launch  was  on  August  15,  and  it  was  on 
the  following  morning,  immediately  after  break- 
fast, that  we  resumed  our  journey  by  driving 
across  the  neck  of  land  which  leads  from  Parrs- 
boro  to  Parroboro  Pier  and  Partridge  Island. 
We  wished  to  reach  the  shore  of  the  Minas 
Channel  at  a  point  where  we  could  look  directly 
down  the  Bay  of  Fundy  between  Cape  Split  and 
Cape  Sharp„  The  mingling  of  pea  and  land  in 
this  region  affords  endless  temptation  for  sketch- 
ing. If  it  were  a,  part  of  the  United  States  in- 
stead of  being,  nationally,  neither  fish,  flesh,  nor 
good  red  herring,  it  would  be  one  of  the  favorite 
resorts  of  our  amateur  artists  and  summer  tour- 
ists. As  matters  stand,  Blomidon  on  the  one 
shore,  with  its  forest-crowned  palisades  reaching 
down  to  Cape  Split,  and  on  the  other  Partridge 
Island,  with  sculptured  rocks  around  which  the 
tides  of  Fundy  surge  and  eddy  ;  Cape  Sharp,  red- 
walled  and  spruce-capped  ;  and  even  Parrsboro 
itself,  where  one  must  eat  and  sleep,  are  places 
hard  to  reach  promptly  and  comforta,bly.  We 
had  been  forced  to  storm  Parrsboro  by  night  in 
a  rain-soaked  freight  car.  We  escaped  from  it 
by  a  steamer  so  tiny  and  primitive  in  form  that 
I  wondered  whether  it  had  not  in  years  past 
see^  service  as  a  towboat  in  New  York  harbor. 


THE  HOME   OF  GLOOSCAP. 


75 


From  the  hillside  above  Minas  Channel  we 
saw  several  large  ships  lying  at  anchor  in  the 
protected  water  between  Cape  Sharp  on  our 
right,  westward,  and  Partridge  Island  on  our 
left,  eastward.  The  tide  was  coming  in  beyond 
them,  and  even  at  a  distance  the  channel  seemed 
like  a  river  flowing  from  Fundy  into  Minas  Ba- 
sin. To  gain  a  nearer  view  of  it,  and  a  slightly 
different  outlook,  we  drove  along  the  shoic  until 
we  reached  Parrsboro  Pier,  which  is  in  a  shel- 
tered nook  under  the  lee  of  Partridge  Island. 
The  tiny  tub  which  was  to  take  'is  across  to  the 
Blomidon  side  lay  at  the  foot  of  the  pier,  wait- 
ing for  the  tide  to  lift  it  high  enough  for  pas- 
cengers  to  find  it.  From  the  pier  a  ridge  of  peb- 
bles runs  across  to  Partridge  Island,  and  on  this 
natural  causeway  we  strolled  over  to  nature's 
Mont  St.  Michel,  with  its  grottoed  cliffs  rising 
on  high  from  the  raging  waters,  and  its  dark 
pinnacles  of  spruce  piercing  the  sky.  A  wind- 
ing avenue  I'^ads  through  moss-bearded  trees  to 
the  island's  summit,  ending  upon  a  grassy  shelf 
where  the  rocks  overhang  the  channel,  and  where 
either  folly  or  courage  is  needed  to  induce  the 
visitor  to  staiul  upon  tlie  dizzy  brink  and  look 
down,  down,  into  the  hurrying,  eddying  tide  be- 
low. My  childish  imaginings  of  Fundy  tides 
were  all  satisfied  here,  if  they  had  been  disap- 
pointed in  Parrsboro  harbor.     The  eager  rush, 


if 
I. 


v: 


I   I 
I    f 

I 


76 


FEOM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


I 


whirl,  and  hiss  of  that  vast  mass  of  water,  as  it 
surged  past,  told  of  the  limitless  strength  of  old 
ocean,  far  away  at  Fundy's  mouth,  heaving  and 
pushing  its  way  into  bay  and  channel,  basin  and 
cove,  with  woe  and  destruction  for  anything  op- 
posing its  mad  progress. 

Cape  Split  and  Cape  Sharp  seemed  monu- 
ments to  the  passion  and  cruelty  of  this  tide. 
Sharp,  on  the  northern  side  of  the  channel,  rears 
its  mangled  face,  and  tells  of  ages  of  horrid  con- 
test with  tides  and  storms,  grinding  ice  below, 
and  cleaving,  wedging  ice  above.  Split,  on  the 
southern  side,  is  a  perpetual  reminder  of  the 
Micmac  legends  of  the  deeds  of  Glooscap.  A 
huge  fragment  of  the  palisades  —  cliffs  which 
reach  from  Blomidon  seven  miles  along  the 
Minas  Channel  to  Split  —  appears  at  a  distance 
to  have  broken  from  the  projecting  en<l  of  the 
cape,  and  to  lean  outward  over  the  bay,  its  sharp 
sides  rising  to  a  toothlike  point.  A  broad  sec- 
tion of  cliff  next  to  it  is  also  sei)arated  from  the 
mass  of  the  palisades  by  a  deep  cleft.  The  Mic- 
mac story  rmis  that  Glooscap,  angry  with  the 
monster  beaver  for  building  a  dam  from  Blomi- 
don across  the  Minas  Channel,  freed  the  end  of 
the  dam  on  the  northern  or  Parrsboro  shore,  so 
that  the  released  waters,  rushing  towards  Fundy. 
swung  the  dam  round  violently,  thus  forming  the 
])alisades,  and  leaving  the  broken  end  showing 
at  Cape  Split. 


THE  HOME  OF  GLOOSCAP.  77 

A  shrill  whistle  summoned  us  from  Partridge 
Island  to  the  deck  of  the  Evangeline,  as  the 
steam  tub  is  called  which  sails  from  Parrsboro 
Pier,  across  the  mouth  of  Minas  Basin,  under 
Blomidon,  past  the  Pereaux  shore,  and  into 
Kingsport,  whence  a  branch  railway  runs  to 
Kentville.  When  a  series  of  whistles  had  gath- 
ered together  upon  the  Evangeline's  deck  all  the 
floating  pojiulation  within  hearing  of  the  pier, 
amounting  in  all  to  seven  souls,  we  puffed  out 
past  Mont  St.  Michel  into  the  Fundy  maelstrom. 
Why  I  did  not  follow  the  forcible  example  of 
some  of  the  passengers  and  retire  to  the  dark  in- 
terior of  the  tub  for  secluded  misery,  I  know 
not ;  but  I  did  not,  and,  moreover,  I  was  not 
seasick  a  moment  during  the  })Itching  and  toss- 
ing which  lasted  until  we  approached  Kings- 
port.  The  fury  of  the  water  which  surrounded 
us  was  marvelous,  considering  that  there  were 
no  great  waves,  and  no  storm  to  make  waves. 
True,  the  wind  blew  hard,  and  cold  rain  beat 
upon  us  spitefully,  stinging  like  hail :  but  it  was 
not  the  wind  which  made  the  fury  of  the  sea. 
Looking  westward  dowu  the  Minas  Channel  in 
the  direction  of  Fundy,  we  saw  boiling,  whirling, 
eddying  water  coming  towards  us.  We  felt  it, 
fcoo  ;  for  when  a  great  whirl  struck  the  tub,  its 
ijtern  fell  off,  and  its  head  swung  round  a  dozen 
points  from  the  true  course.      The  visible  rnove- 


P 


-rr 


78 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


fi' 


ill 


ment  of  separate  masses  of  the  water  reminded 
me  of  White  Mountain  rivers  in  freshet  time. 
It  was  uncanny,  out  there  miles  from  land,  to 
have  the  sea  open  and  allow  a  great  gush  of 
water  to  rise  up  and  spread  itself  out  as  though 
forced  from  a  submarine  duct.  The  Evangeline 
struggled  hard  with  the  swift  current,  but  it  car- 
ried her  far  out  of  the  direct  course  towards 
Blomidon,  and  it  was  only  by  repeat/cd  rallies 
that  we  were  kept  from  being  swept  well  out 
into  Minas  Basin. 

As  we  neared  Blomidon  the  distinctive  out- 
lines of  the  noble  bluff  were  lost.  The  iL^turdy 
profile  fell  back  into  line  with  the  palisades,  and 
it  was  hard  to  say  just  what  part  of  the  cliffs 
which  we  were  passing  furnished  the  bold  fea- 
tures so  familiar  from  a  distance.  A  moment 
later,  Cape  Split  and  the  distant  palisades  passed 
from  view,  then  Cape  Sharp  was  concealed,  and 
soon  the  profile  of  Blomidon  began  to  grow 
again,  as  all  that  lay  northward  and  westward  of 
it  was  hidden  behind  its  simple  but  severe  con- 
tour. 

Our  ever  ready  guide,  philosopher,  and  friend 
remarked,  before  we  had  fairly  set  foot  on  Kings- 
port  Pier,  that  seldom  though  it  might  be  that 
man  stood  on  Partridge  Island  in  the  morning 
and  on  the  top  of  Blomidon  in  the  afternoon,  he 
wished  us,  nevertheless,  to  acconii)lish  the  feat. 


' 


THE  nOM^.   OF  G Loose AP. 


79 


Accordingly,  dinner  at  the  cosiest  little  hotel  in 
Nova  Scotia  was  treated  with  scant  courtesy,  and 
we  were  soon  speeding  over  red  mud  roads  to- 
wards Blomidon.  In  one  place,  which  I  remem- 
bered puzzling  over,  through  my  glass,  from  the 
Look-off,  three  weeks  before,  we  had  our  choice 
of  driving  along  the  top  of  an  old  Acadian  dike, 
or  of  following  the  level  of  the  reclaimed  pre 
just  inside  of  it.  Like  our  New  England  stone 
walls,  the  Acadian  dikes  are  a  monument  to  the 
patience  of  the  makers  of  America.  It  is  weari- 
some to  consider  the  millions  of  '  3urs  of  labor 
buried  in  such  memorials. 

After  crossing  the  Pereaux  valley  we  drew 
near  to  Blomidon,  and  saw  the  narrow  red  beach 
and  water-worn  cliffs  extending  fa?  out  into  the 
Minas  waters.  The  tide  was  falling,  and  by  the 
time  we  had  climbed  the  height  and  returned,  a 
broad  beach  would  invite  us  t«)  explore  its  sticky 
expanse,  in  search  of  minerals  of  many  colors. 
So  to  th^  top  we  drove,  easily,  for  the  road  was 
well  made  and  not  steep,  —  at  least  in  New 
Hampshire  eyes.  Although  we  were  now  but 
half  a  thousand  feet  above  the  waves,  while  at 
Cape  Smoky  we  had  been  twelve  hundred,  Blom- 
idon held  its  own  in  our  hearts,  and  sent  thrills 
through  us  by  its  views,  westward,  of  the  Bay  of 
Fundy,  now  brilliant  with  sunlight;  of  Isle  au 
llaut,  a  blue  cloud  in  the  midst  of  the  most  dis- 


lii 


80 


FROM  BLOMIDON   TO  SMOKY. 


tant  sparkling  waters  ;  and  eastward,  of  the  fair 
Minas  Basin,  bounded  on  the  one  hand  by  the 
Cobequid  Mountains,  and  on  the  other  by  Grand 
Pre,  the  Gaspereaux,  and  the  hills  above  the 
Avon,  yet  reaching  between  the  two  to  the  hori- 
zon line  at  the  point  where  we  knew  Truro  lay. 
The  top  of  Blomidon  is  not  the  abode  of  storm 
winds  alone,  for  two  houses  stand  upon  it,  and 
the  laughter  of  children  rings  cheerily  among 
the  evergreen  groves.  Much  of  it  is  pasture 
land,  and  not  for  cows  alone,  as  I  discovered 
when  a  huge  sow  came  charging  down  upon  me 
with  hungry  gruntings.  The  view,  taken  as  a 
whole,  was  much  like  that  from  the  Look-off,  so 
we  spent  only  a  few  moments  on  the  summit, 
and  then  hastened  to  the  beach  below. 

The  road  led  directly  down  to  the  edge  of  the 
sea  ;  so,  defying  Fundy  tides,  knowing  this  one 
to  be  still  falling,  we  drove  along  the  beach, 
until  our  horse's  feet  became  balls  of  red  mud, 
aiid  the  wagon  wheels  threatened  to  turn  no 
more.  Then  we  left  the  horse  tetherod  to  a 
stone,  and  picked  our  way  beneath  the  sculp- 
tured cliffs,  searching  for  amethyst,  jasper, 
agates,  and  salmon  -  colored  masses  of  fibrous 
gypsum.  The  cliffs  were  soft  red  sandstone  with 
many  layers  of  gray  intermingled,  and  erosion 
had  worn  their  faces  into  columnar  forms  of 
singular  grace  and  beauty.     At  intervals,  hun- 


J 


iM,ki^^'.'iy^,h&j!mm^,Mf}mt^mmr^;'U,,,aMmmj: 


ilfU 


THE  HOME  OF  GLOOSCAP. 


81 


dreds  of  pounds'  weight  of  gypsum  had  dropped 
upon  the  shore,  and  been  beaten  into  fragments 
by  the  sea.  The  beach  was  about  half  red  mud, 
and  half  small  stones  and  pebbles.  Of  pretty 
stones  we  could  have  carried  home  a  ton,  but  of 
crystals  or  minerals  of  real  interest  we  found 
few.  The  shore  is  as  carefully  gleaned  for  am- 
ethyst as  Musketaquid  meadows  are  for  arrow- 
heads. 

Dewy  twilight  surrounded  us  before  we  could 
tear  ourselves  away  from  the  fascination  of  the 
towering  cliffs,  red  beach,  purple  shallows,  and 
lapping  waves.  When  we  climbed  back  into  the 
wagon,  it  was  with  the  feeling  that  the  spell  of 
Blomidon  and  Smoky,  of  Minas  Basin  and  the 
Bras  d'Or,  was  broken  at  last,  and  that  our  faces 
were  set  in  earnest  towards  Chocorua. 


'  ''I 


til 


AUGUST  BIRDS  IN  CAPE  BRETON. 


After  traveling  for  two  weeks  tlirougli  Cape 
Breton,  on  rail,  steamboat,  wa^on,  and  my  own 
legs,  I  felt  sure  that  its  distinctive  tree  was  the 
spruce,  its  prevailing  flower  the  eye-bright  (^Eu- 
2)hrasia  officinalis)^  and  its  most  ubiquitous 
bird  the  juncc.  Certainly  three  more  cheerful, 
sturdy,  and  honest  elements  could  not  be  woven 
into  every-day  life,  and  they  seem  to  me  to  be 
emblematic  of  the  island  province  and  its  people. 
The  junco  was  everywhere,  in  sunshine  and  in 
rain,  at  gray  dawn  and  after  dewy  eve;  in  the 
spruces  which  watched  the  sea  at  Ingonish,  and 
in  the  early  twilight  of  inland  Loch  o'  Law. 
He,  she,  and  the  infant  juncos  were  at  the  road- 
side, in  the  fields,  in  the  pastures,  on  the  moun- 
tain top,  and  by  the  trout  pool,  and  they  were 
always  busy,  happy,  and  treating  their  neighbors 
as  they  liked  to  have  their  neighbors  treat  them, 
like  brothers.  These  neighbors  included  song 
sparrows,  white-throats,  grass  finches,  yellow- 
rum  ped  and  black-and-white  creeping  warblers, 
blackcapped  and  Hudsonian  titmice,  some  of  the 
thrusli  family,  and  occasionally  pine  siskirs. 


AUGUST  BIRDS   IN  CAPE  BRETON. 


83 


Of  the  thrushes,  the  robin  was  by  far  the 
most  numerous,  noisy,  and  generally  distributed. 
He  was  not,  however,  a  bird  of  the  lawn,  the 
orchard,  and  the  shade  tree  by  the  house  door, 
but  by  preference  a  dweller  in  larch  swamps 
and  spruce  thickets,  secluded  river  beds  and  up- 
land forests.  He  was  the  first  bird  in  every 
lonely  grove  or  deep  wood  vista  to  give  a  note 
of  alarm  and  warning  to  the  neighborhood ;  and 
the  first  to  respond  to  a  cry  of  fear  or  pain 
uttered  by  any  other  bird.  The  hermit  thrush 
was  present  in  fair  numbers,  and  blessed  the 
woods  and  pastures  with  his  anthem.  I  saw 
Swainson's  and  gray-cheeked  thrushes,  but  the 
catbird  and  thrasher  were  apparently  unknown, 
as  was  also  the  veery.  The  robin's  conduct 
made  me  feel  as  though  he  were  not  one  and  the 
same  with  the  common  New  England  dooryard 
birds,  but  of  a  race  as  different  from  theirs  as  the 
Cape  Breton  Highlander's  stock  is  from  that  of 
the  matter-of-fact  Scotch  mechanic  of  the  cities. 
The  people  round  Loch  Ainslie  and  between 
Cape  Smoky  and  St.  Anne's  Bay  speak  and  think 
Gaelic  ;  and  the  robins  in  the  Baddeok  and  Mar- 
garee  woods  speak  and  think  a  language  of  the 
forest  and  the  glen,  not  of  the  lawn. 

One  evening,  as  I  lay  on  the  sandy  shore  of 
Loch  Ainslie,  close  to  the  mouth  of  Trout  Brook, 
the  spotted  sandjoipers  of  the  lake  told  me  a  se- 


It  ^ 


84 


FROM  DLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


\%\n\ 


cret  of  their  little  lives  which  seemed  well  worth 
knowing.  Tlie  evening  air  was  full  of  rural 
music  :  the  tinkle-tankle  of  cowbells  ;  the  clatter 
of  tiny  sheep -hoofs  speeding  over  the  wooden 
bridge ;  the  complaining  of  geese,  homeward 
bound,  by  the  roadside  ;  and  the  harsh,  rattling 
cries  of  the  kingfishers,  which,  half  a  dozen 
strong,  persecuted  the  small  fry  of  Trout  Brook's 
Mmpid  waters,  A  school  of  big  trout  could  be 
seen  lying  sluggish  at  the  bottom  of  the  brook, 
and  their  little  kinsfolk  were  jumping  freely  in 
all  parts  of  the  quiet  water.  Tiny  flies  hovered 
over  the  pools ;  and  if  they  touched,  or  almost 
touched,  the  water,  agile  fish  flung  themselves 
into  the  air  after  thera.  Again  and  again  I  cast 
my  feathered  fly  upon  the  ripples  ;•  but  as  no 
answering  rise  pleased  my  expectant  nerves,  I 
tossed  i»yrod  aside,  and  drifted  on  towards  even- 
ing with  the  stream  of  life  and  light  and  color 
flowing  over  me.  The  bell -cow  came  to  the 
stream  and  drank,  then  passed  slowly  up  the 
road  homewards  ;  a  lamb,  whimpering,  followed 
his  woolly  parent  to  the  fold ;  the  geese,  with 
outstretched  necks  and  indignant  heads,  scolded 
all  who  passed  them  ;  and  suddenly  an  eagle  with 
mighty  wing  came  sailing  towards  me  across 
broad  Ainslie's  ripples,  bound  for  his  mountain 
loneliness.  The  sun  had  sunk  below  the  western 
hills,  —  hills  from  whose  seaward  side  Prince 


1 


AUGUST  BIRDS  IN  CAPE  BRETON. 


85 


Edward  Island  could  be  seen  as  a  long,  low  ha- 
ven for  a  sinking  sun  to  rest  upon  ;  the  sky  was 
radiant  with  color,  and  the  lake's  slightly  ruffled 
surface  took  the  color  and  glorified  it  in  count- 
less moving  lines  of  beauty.  From  the  gold 
sky  and  over  the  gold  water  the  black  eagle 
came  eastward,  swiftly  and  with  resistless  flight. 
Nearer  and  nearer  he  came,  until  his  image  dwelt 
for  a  moment  in  the  still  stream,  then  vanished 
as  he  swept  past  above  the  bridge,  and  bore  on- 
ward to  the  dark  hills  clad  in  their  spruces  and 
balsams.  He  seemed  like  the  restless  spirit  of 
the  day  departing  before  the  sweet  presence  of 
sleepy  night. 

Below  the  bridge,  Trout  Brook  runs  a  score 
of  rods  between  sandy  beaches  to  a  bar  which 
half  cuts  it  off  from  the  lake.  Upon  this  bar 
sandpipers  were  gathering  by  twos  and  threes, 
until  their  numbers  attracted  my  attention.  I 
strolled  slowly  towards  them,  crossing  wide  lev- 
els of  sand,  from  which  coarse  grasses,  sedges, 
and  a  few  stiff-stalked  shrubs  sprung  in  sparse 
growth,  and  upon  which  a  few  clusters  of 
rounded  stones  broke  the  evenness  of  the  beach. 
As  I  drew  near  the  margin  of  the  lake  the  sand- 
pipers rose,  "  peep-sweeting  "  as  they  flew,  and 
with  deeply  dipping  wings  vil^rated  away  over 
the  water ;  heading  at  first  towards  the  fading 
sunset,  then  sweeping  inshore  again,  and  alight- 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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1.8 


1.6 


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Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14S80 

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86 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


ing  within  an  eighth  of  a  mile  of  me  on  the 
curved  beach.  Noticing  that  some  of  the  birds 
had  risen  from  among  the  grasses  above  the  line 
of  wave -washed  sand,  I  lay  down  upon  the 
ground,  with  the  hope  that  some  of  them  might 
return,  and  perhaps  come  near  me.  Scarcely 
had  my  outlines  blended  with  the  contour  of  the 
shore  when  the  clear  "  peep,  peep,  peep  "  of  the 
little  teeterers  was  heard  on  both  sides,  as  they 
came  in  from  distant  points  along  the  shore. 
Sometimes  twenty  birds  were  in  sight  at  once, 
flying  low  over  the  water,  apparently  guided  by 
a  common  impulse  to  gain  the  part  of  the  beach 
near  which  I  was  concealed.  I  lay  motionless, 
my  head  resting  upon  my  arm,  only  a  few  inches 
above  the  sand.  As  I  lay  thus,  the  grasses  rose 
like  slender  trees  against  the  pale  tinting  of  the 
August  sky,  and  lake,  distant  hill,  and  sky  all 
took  on  more  emphatic  tones,  and  appeared  to 
have  firmer  and  more  significant  outlines. 

Slowly  the  light  faded,  und  the  line  of  clear- 
est color  shrank  to  narrower  and  narrower  lim- 
its along  the  distant  hills.  I  had  almost  forgot- 
ten the  birds,  although  small  squads  of  them 
kept  passing,  or  wheeling  in  upon  the  shining 
edge  of  wet  sand  nearest  me.  Suddeidy  a  white 
object  glided  among  the  grass  stems,  only  a  few 
feet  from  my  face.  It  paused  and  teetered,  then 
slid  along  out  of  sight  into  a  thicket  of  grasses. 


AUGUST  BIRDS  IN  CAPE  BRETON. 


87 


I  sharpened  my  vision  and  hearing,  and  found 
that  all  around  me  tiny  forms  were  moving 
among  the  weeds,  and  that  groups  of  birds 
seemed  to  be  collecting  in  answer  to  low  calls 
which  suggested  the  warm,  comfortable  sound 
which  young  chickens  make  as  they  nestle  to 
sleep  under  their  mother.  The  sandpipers  were 
goini'  to  bed  in  the  grass  forest,  and  I  was  lying 
in  the  midst  of  their  dormitory,  like  sleepy  Gul- 
liver among  the  Lilliputians.  I  might  have  re- 
mained quiet  longer  had  the  peeps  and  I  been 
the  only  living  creatures  on  the  Trout  Brook 
beach,  but  mosquitoes  and  gnats  were  present, 
and  the  waving  grass  tips  tickling  my  face  made 
them  appear  even  more  numerous  than  they 
really  were.  So  at  last,  when  stars  began  to  ap- 
pear in  the  sky,  I  rose  abruptly  to  my  feet.  Had 
I  exploded  a  mine,  the  whir  and  rush  which  fol- 
lowed my  arising  could  not  have  been  more  sud- 
den. It  was  really  startling,  for  in  a  second  the 
air  was  filled  with  frightened  birds  flying  from 
me  towards  the  lake.  How  many  there  were  I 
cannot  say,  nor  even  guess,  but  it  seemed  to  me 
that  all  the  sandpipers  which  patrolled  the  sandy 
shores  of  Ainslie  must  have  been  gathered  to- 
gether on  tliat  one  small  area  of  beach,  bent  ou 
finding  safety  or  a  feeling  of  security  in  close 
association  through  the  night  hours. 

Once  or  twice  I  have  met  the  Hudson's  Bay 


88 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


Jl     :S 


titmouse  in  the  Chocorua  country  in  winter,  but 
I  had  never  seen  him  in  numbers  or  in  summer 
until  I  reached  Cape  Breton,  and  found  him 
perfectly  at  home  in  its  pasture  and  roadside 
thickets  as  well  as  in  the  deep  forest.  He  is  a 
cheaper  edition  of  the  common  chickadee,  who, 
on  the  same  ground,  excels  him  in  many  ways. 
His  voice  is  feebler  and  husky.  What  he  says 
sounds  commonplace,  and  his  manner  of  approach 
lacks  the  vigilant  boldness  of  the  blackcap.  His 
brown  head  is  readily  distinguished  from  the 
black  crown  of  his  more  sprightly  relative,  though 
it  is  likely  to  be  looked  at  closely  merely  to  con- 
firm the  impression  already  conveyed  by  his  voice 
that  he  is  not  the  common  chickadee,  but  a  new 
friend  well  worth  knowing.  Apparently,  in 
Cape  Breton,  he  outnumbered  our  common  tit- 
mouse by  five  or  six  to  one,  yet  the  blackcap 
was  generally  distributed  and  was  as  numerous 
near  Ingonish  as  farther  south.  Of  the  black- 
cap's friends,  the  white  and  the  red  breasted 
nuthatches,  I  saw  nothing.  Once  at  Margaree 
Forks  I  heard  the  "  quank  "  of  the  red-breasted, 
but  I  failed  to  see  the  speaker,  and  had  the  note 
been  less  peculiar  I  should  have  doubted  really 
having  heard  it. 

About  sunset  on  August  5,  I  was  seated  in  an 
evergreen  thicket  a  mile  or  more  back  of  the 
village  of  Baddeck.     By   "  squeaking "    I  had 


AUGUST  BIRDS  IN  CAPE  BRETON. 


89 


drawn  near  me  a  mob  of  wliite-throats,  j  uncos, 
both  kinds  of  chickadees,  ruby-crowned  king- 
lets, and  of  warblers  the  yellow-rmnped,  black- 
throated  green,  Nashville,  black-and-white  creep- 
ing, and  the  gorgeous  black-and-yellow,  as  well 
as  robins,  a  purple  finch,  and  some  young  flick- 
ers. Suddenly  I  heard  an  unfamiliar  bird  note, 
a  harsh,  loud  call,  which,  without  much  consid- 
eration, I  attributed  to  geese,  great  numbers  of 
which  are  kept  by  the  Cape  Breton  farmers. 
After  an  interval  of  several  minutes  the  cries 
were  repeated,  and  this  time  it  occurred  to  me 
that  geese  were  not  likely  to  be  wandering  in  a 
hackmatack  swamp  just  at  sunset,  especially  as 
the  sky  foretold  rain  and  the  wind  was  backing 
round  into  the  east.  So  I  left  my  thicket  in 
search  of  the  maker  of  the  strange  sounds.  A 
path  led  through  the  larches  to  a  clearing  sur- 
rounded by  a  typical  Cape  Breton  fence,  or  se- 
rial woodpile,  which  appeared  to  be  built  on  the 
Kentucky  principle  of  being  "horse  high,  pig 
low,  and  bull  proof,"  and  consequently  impregna- 
ble to  turkeys,  geese,  and  sheep.  The  moment  I 
emerged  from  the  trees  a  fine  marsh  hawk  rose 
from  the  ground  and  floated  away  out  of  sight. 
While  watching  him,  a  flash  of  white  on  the  fence 
drew  my  eyes  to  the  edge  of  the  woods,  and  there, 
to  my  delight,  I  saw  five  of  the  most  charming 
denizens  of  the  great  northern  forests  :  birds  in 


I 


90 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


quest  of  which  I  had  traveled  miles  through  the 
New  Hampshire  mountain  valleys,  always  in  vain. 
As  I  turned,  one  of  these  beautiful  creatures, 
with  wings  widespread  and  tail  like  a  fan,  was 
sailing  just  above,  but  parallel  with,  the  fence. 
He  paused  upon  it,  looked  towards  me  with  his 
large,  fearless  eyes,  and  then  noisily  tapped  a 
knot  in  the  upper  pole  with  his  beak.  "  Moose 
birds  at  last!  "  I  exclaimed,  and  at  once  felt  the 
strongest  liking  for  them.  There  was  nothing 
in  their  ajjpearance  to  confuse  them  with  their 
wicked  cousins  the  blue  jays  ;  in  fact,  I  found  my 
instincts  rebelling  at  the  idea  of  both  being  Cor- 
vidm.  Their  large  rounded  heads  had  no  sign  of 
a  crest,  and  the  white  on  the  crown  and  under  the 
chin  gave  them  a  singularly  tidy  look,  as  though 
their  gentle  faces  were  tippeted.  Their  plu- 
mage as  a  whoL'  was  Quaker-like  in  tone,  so  that, 
considering  their  demure  and  gentle  bearing,  the 
name  "  Whiskey  Jack,"  applied  to  them  by  the 
lumbermen,  seemed  to  me  absurdly  inappropriate. 
While  I  watched  these  birds,  they  moved 
slowly  along  the  fence  towards  the  swamp,  com- 
ing nearer  and  nearer,  and  finally  passing  within 
about  fifty  feet  of  me.  One  of  them  was  a 
young  bird,  with  but  little  white  on  his  dusky 
brown  head ;  two  others  were  females,  also  less 
white  than  the  males.  Finally  they  vanished  in 
the   swamp,  (he  last   bird  going  upstairs  on  a 


AUGUST  BIRDS  IN  CAPE  BRETON.  91 

dead  tree  in  true  jay  fashion,  and  then  plunging, 
head  foremost,  into  the  shadows  of  the  grove  be- 
neath. As  I  left  the  larches  behind  me,  the 
same  strange,  harsh  cry  echoed  from  its  depths, 
and  I  accepted  it  as  the  moose  bird's  prophecy 
of  impending  rain.  It  is  an  odd  fact  that  these 
birds  die  if  they  become  chilled  after  being  wet 
in  a  heavy  rain,  and  on  this  occasion  they  were  un- 
doubtedly seeking  dense  foliage  to  protect  them 
from  the  storm  which  began  a  few  hours  later. 

Of  the  Cape  Breton  warblers,  the  black-and- 
yellow  were  among  the  most  numerous,  and  by 
all  means  the  most  brilliant  in  })lumage.  When- 
ever I  called  the  birds  together,  the  magnolias 
were  sure  to  appear,  their  gleaming  yellow 
waistcoats  showing  afar  through  the  trees,  and 
con+rasting  with  their  dark  upper  plumage  and 
the  cool  gray  of  their  caps.  One  male  redstart 
seemed  the  most  richly  marked  bird  of  his  spe- 
cies that  I  had  ever  met  with.  The  black  ex- 
tended much  lower  on  the  breast  than  usual,  and 
the  vermilion  which  lay  next  it  burned  like  a  hot 
coal.  Sunmaer  yellow-birds  were  common  in  the 
meadow  borders,  where  Maryland  yellow-throats 
also  abounded  ;  a  single  black  -  throated  blue 
warbler  appeared  to  me  near  Baddeck ;  one 
anxious  mother  Blackburnian  scolded  me  in  the 
dark  forest  near  the  falls  of  Indian  Brook ;  and 
a  few  Canadian  fly-catching  warblers  flashed  in 


•    t 


i 


I 


92 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


and  out  among  their  dark  evergreen  haunts  in 
various  parts  of  the  island.  Watching  ever  so 
eagerly,  I  failed  to  see  any  blackpolls,  Wilson 
blackcaps,  hay  -  breasted,  mourning,  or  yellow 
redpoll  warblers,  and  it  seemed  strange  to  miss 
entirely  the  oven-birds,  chestnut-sided,  pine- 
creeping,  and  parula  warblers,  so  readily  found 
near  Chocorua.  These  species  may  be  known 
to  Cape  Breton,  but  they  could  hardly  have  es- 
caped my  notice  had  they  been  abundant. 

Years  ago,  when  houses  and  barns  were  less 
often  or  less  thoroughly  painted  than  they  are 
now,  and  when  overhanging  eaves  were  common, 
the  eaves  swallow  was  a  familiar  bird  in  New 
England.  Now  the  youthful  nest-robber  thinks 
of  the  mud-nest  builder  as  a  rare  bird,  one  for 
whose  eggs  he  is  willing  to  travel  many  a  mile. 
In  all  the  Cape  Breton  country,  where  barn 
swallows  abound,  I  saw  but  one  colony  of  eaves 
swallows,  and  that  was  in  a  place  so  dirty  and 
dreary  I  regret  that  these  charming  birds  must 
always  recall  it  to  my  mind.  Scottsville  —  may 
the  spirit  of  cleanliness  some  day  come  with  sapo- 
lio  and  Paris  green  to  cleanse  it !  —  lies  at  the 
head  waters  of  Southwest  Margaree,  within  sight 
of  the  point  where  that  restless  river  leaves  Loch 
Ainslie.  Opposite  the  village  store  stands  an 
unpainted  building  with  ample  eaves,  and  on 
its  northern  side,  crowded  into  a  space   about 


AUGUST  BIRDS  IN  CAPE  BRETON. 


93 


thirty  feet  long,  were  one  hundred  of  the  retort- 
shaped  mud-nests  of  the  eaves  swallows.  They 
were  placed  one  above  another,  frequently  three 
deep.  Their  bottle  -  mouths  were  pointed  up- 
wards, downwards,  to  left,  or  right,  or  towards 
the  observer,  as  the  overcrowding  of  the  tene- 
ments made  most  convenient.  While  some  of 
the  older  nests  were  symmetrical,  others  were 
of  strange  shapes,  dictated  by  the  form  of  the 
building-site  left  to  them. 

Bank  swallows  were  abundant,  almost  every 
available  cutting  being  riddled  with  their  holes. 
Near  Baddeck  I  found  one  hole  in  a  bank  over- 
hanging the  waves  at  Bras  d'Or,  at  a  point  where 
every  passing  wagon  must  have  made  thunder  in 
the  ears  of  the  tiny  occupants  of  the  nest,  which 
was  literally  under  the  highway.  I  was  attracted 
to  this  nest  by  seeing  a  bird  enter  it.  The  Bay 
of  Fundy  pours  its  terrible  tides  into  the  Basin 
of  Minas,  and  the  Blomidon  region  presents  to 
the  turbulent  waters  which  rush  into  the  basin, 
not  only  vast  expanses  of  red  mud  which  are  left 
bare  at  low  water,  but  also  cliffs  of  rock  or  red  clay 
which  resist  the  surging  waves  at  high  tide.  In 
the  earth  cliffs,  which  stand  as  straight  as  brick 
walls  above  the  floods,  the  bank  swallows  find 
houses  just  to  their  liking,  and  from  the  cliffs  of 
Pereaux  to  the  waving  grass  of  Grand  Pre  the 
little  fleets  of  these  birds  flit  back  and  forth  hour 


94 


FROM   BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


t 

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ii 

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i  -- 

by  hour  in  the  warm  sunlight,  or  veer  and  tack 
close  to  the  waves  when  chilly  fogs  come  in  from 
Fundy. 

Of  the  chimney  swift  I  saw  little.  lie  was  in 
Cape  Breton,  but  not  in  large  nmnbers,  and  one 
or  two  farmers  and  fishermen  said  that  he  was  a 
bird  that  built  in  hollow  trees,  and  seemed  not 
to  know  that  in  these  times  the  chimney  is  sup- 
posed to  be  his  chosen  home.  Night-hawks  were 
abundant,  especially  in  the  streets  of  Baddeck, 
where,  in  the  twilight,  which  no  lamp-post  rises 
to  injure,  these  swift  and  silent  fliers  darted  in 
and  out  among  the  heads  of  the  passers  by,  to  the 
bewilderment  of  those  quick  enough  to  see  them. 
Probably,  if  1  had  visited  Cape  Breton  in  June 
or  early  July,  I  should  have  heard  the  whippoor- 
will ;  for  when  I  whistled  his  song,  the  dwellers 
by  sea  or  inland  lake  said,  "  Oh  yes,  we  have 
that  bird.  He  sings  at  night."  To  me,  however, 
he  said  nothing,  nor  did  the  humming-bird  con- 
descend to  make  its  small  self  known  farther 
north  than  the  Basin  of  Minas,  which  is  a  hun- 
dred miles  or  moie  from  Cape  Breton.  Still, 
when  I  asked  those  who  had  gardens  full  of  gayly 
tinted  flowers  if  they  knew  the  humming-bird, 
they  always  replied,  "  Yes,  the  one  with  the  beau- 
tiful red  throat ;  "  which  made  me  wonder  why 
they  never  saw  the  female  rn  by-throat  with  her 
more  modest  coloring  of  green  and  white. 


AUGUST  BIRDS  IN  CAPE  BRETON. 


95 


When  I  8'-  id  that  the  junco  was  the  distinctive 
bird  of  Cape  Breton,  I  had  in  min*..  one  rival 
claimant  who  certainly  pervades  the  island  with 
his  presence.  I  well  remember  descending,  just 
at  sunset,  into  the  exquisite  glen  of  Loch  o'  Law, 
the  most  satisfying  piece  of  inland  scenery  which 
I  saw  in  all  Cape  Breton.  As  the  road  bent 
around  the  wooded  border  of  the  lake,  seven 
large  blue  birds  rose  from  one  end  of  the  lake, 
and  flew,  in  a  straggling  flock,  down  to  a  spot 
remote  from  the  road.  They  looked  like  king- 
fishers, but  I  thought  I  had  learned  from  experi- 
ence that,  around  small  mountain  lakes,  king- 
fishers hunt  singly  in  August.  Nevertheless 
they  were  kingfishers,  and  they  were  hunting  in 
a  flock.  A  few  hours  before,  at  Middle  River^ 
where  trout  lie  in  shallow  sunlit  water  over  a 
yellow  sandy  bottom,  I  had  seen  a  kingfisher 
hover  above  a  point  in  ^he  stream  for  several 
minutes.  A  rival  flew  down  upon  him  and  drove 
him  away ;  but  before  mj  horse  could  walk 
across  the  iron  bridge  above  the  river  he  was 
back  again,  hovering,  kingbird-like,  over  the 
same  spot.  At  Baddeck,  the  kingfishers  perched 
upon  the  telegraph  wires,  or  assumed  statuesque 
poses  upon  the  tips  of  slender  masts  of  pleasure 
boats  at  anchor.  There  appeared  to  be  no  point 
on  the  Bras  d'Or  or  the  fresh-water  lakes  and 
rivers  of  the  island  where  kingfishers  were  not 


96 


FBOM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


twenty  or  thirty  times  as  abundant  as  they  are 
in  northern  New  England. 

The  osprey  was  also  common  on  good  fishing- 
grounds,  and  scarcely  a  day  passed  without  my 
seeing  both  ospreys  and  eagles.  One  afternoon, 
shortly  before  sunset,  I  saw  an  osprey  rise  from 
the  Bras  d'Or  with  a  good-sized  fish  in  his  claws. 
I  expected  to  see  him  take  it  to  some  point  near 
by,  but  instead  he  flew  westward,  high  above  the 
trees,  until  finally  he  was  lost  in  distance. 

I  have  already  mentioned  seeing  marsh  hawks. 
None  of  the  big  buteos  came  near  enough  for  me 
to  identify  them,  nor  did  I  see  a  Cooper's  hawk, 
but,  to  my  delight,  sparrow  hawks  were  not  un- 
common, and  were  comparatively  fearless.  The 
first  that  we  saw  were  in  a  large  field  near  Middle 
River.  As  we  drove  slowly  along  the  road,  a  pair 
of  sparrow  hawks  frolicked  in  front  of  us.  They 
rose  as  we  came  nt  ar  enough  to  see  distinctly  all 
their  handsome  markings,  and  flew  airily  from 
one  perch  on  the  fence  to  another  a  rod  or  two 
farther  on.  They  rose  and  fell,  tilted,  careened, 
righted,  tacked,  made  exquisite  curves,  and  in 
fact  performed  as  many  graceful  manoeuvres  in 
the  air  as  a  fine  skater  could  on  the  ice,  and 
then  came  back  to  the  fence  and  perched  again. 
I  drove  slowly  in  order  not  to  frighten  them, 
and  the  result  was  that  they  rose  and  settled 
again  before  us  more  than  a  dozen  times. 


JL 


AUGUST  BIRDS  IN  CAPE  BRETON. 


97 


Although  I  saw  no  living  owls  during  my 
trip,  I  saw  stuffed  birds  representing  the  com- 
mon species,  and  heard  stories  of  the  daring  at- 
tacks of  great  horned  owls  upon  the  dwellers  in 
the  poultry  yard,  —  geese,  even,  included.  With 
snowy  owls,  the  natives  to  whom  I  spoke  seemed 
to  be  wholly  unacquainted. 

Crows  and  blue  jays  were  common  in  all  sec- 
tions of  Cape  Breton,  but  the  crow  grew  less  in- 
teresting after  I  had  met  his  big  cousin  the  raven, 
just  as  the  blue  jay  had  sunk  to  even  lower 
depths  in  my  estimation  after  my  introduction 
to  the  moose  bird.  The  blue  jay  is  a  downright 
villain,  and  his  rascality  is  emphasized  by  the 
Canada  jay's  virtues.  The  common  crow  is 
shrewd,  but  he  lacks  dignity.  The  first  glimps^^ 
I  had  of  a  raven  was  from  the  top  of  Cape  Smoky, 
where,  from  a  crag  more  Lhan  a  thousand  feet 
above  the  waves  which  dashed  against  the  rocks 
below,  I  saw  three  large  black  birds  come  round 
a  headland  and  sail  upon  broadly  spread  wings 
to  the  face  of  a  ledge  upon  which  they  alighted. 
The  eye  often  detects  differences  in  outline, 
movement,  and  carriage?  which  the  mind  does 
not  analyze  or  the  tongue  describe.  The  three 
black  birds  looked  like  crows ;  in  fact,  the 
Ingonish  fisherman  will  deny  all  knowledge  of 
the  American  raven,  and  insist  that  there  is 
no   specific   difference   between   what   he   calls 


I 


T 


98 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


a  "big  crow"  and  any  other  crow.  Never- 
theless, something  in  the  shape,  bearing,  and 
method  of  flight  of  the  three  visitors  to  Smoky 
fixed  my  attention  several  moments  before  a 
hoarse  croak  from  the  throat  of  one  of  them 
came  echoing  up  the  ravine  and  proclaimed  their 
true  character.  At  Ingonish  they  were  abun- 
dant, especially  near  the  cliffs  of  Middle  Head, 
where  I  should  expect  to  find  them  breeding 
if  I  made  search  at  the  proper  season.  Both 
ravens  and  crows  were  remarkably  tame,  and 
when  I  found  that  very  little  Indian  corn  is 
grown  in  Cape  Breton,  and  that  the  people 
seemed  ignorant  of  the  crow's  affection  for 
sprouting  corn,  I  felt  that  I  had  discovered  one 
reason  for  their  tameness.  It  was  not  unusual 
for  a  flock  of  ten  or  more  crows  to  sit  quietly 
upon  the  top  rail  of  a  snake  fence  bounding  a 
highway,  until  a  person  walking  or  driving  past 
came  nearly  opposite  to  them.  If  they  were  in 
a  tree  twelve  or  fifteen  feet  above  the  road,  they 
did  not  think  of  flying  away.  Six  ravens  in  a 
pine-tree  on  Middle  Head  remained  quiet  while 
I  clambered  over  a  mass  of  rocks  less  than  a 
hundred  feet  from  them. 

In  Nova  Scotia  I  saw  kingbirds  everywhere, 
four  or  five  sometimes  being  in  sight  from  the 
car  window  at  once.  I  felt  as  though  in  the 
orchard  and  hay  country  of  the  Annapolis  Basin 


T 


AUGUST  BIRDS  IN  CAPE  BRETON. 


99 


the  kingbirds  must  have  discovered  their  chosen 
home.  In  Cape  Breton,  while  not  so  abundani, 
they  were  by  no  means  rare.  On  the  other 
hand,  pewees  and  small  flycatchers  were  few  and 
far  between,  and  great-crested  flycatchers,  which 
are  common  at  Chocorua,  were  not  to  be  seen. 
Olive-sided  flycatchers  were  present  in  various 
parts  of  Cape  Breton  in  favorable  localities ;  and 
when  I  heard  their  loud,  unmusical  call,  coming 
from  the  tip  of  some  leafless,  fire-bleached  pine, 
it  always  took  me  back  to  my  first  meeting  with 
the  bird  liigh  up  on  the  desolate  ridges  between 
Chocorua  and  Paugus,  where  from  the  pinnacles 
of  dead  trees  they  scanned  the  air  for  insects, 
and  wearied  nature  by  intermittent  cries. 

Red-eyed  vireos  were  not  so  numerous  in  Cape 
Breton  as  they  are  in  New  Hampshire,  but  there 
wore  enough  of  them  to  keep  up  a  running  fire 
of  conversation  from  one  end  of  the  island  to 
the  other.  I  saw  solitary  vireos  in  several  local- 
ities, one  of  which  was  a  wooded  pasture  in  In- 
gonish,  near  a  small  sheet  of  fresh  water,  and  a 
hill  in  which  the  outcropping  rock  was  gypsum. 
Within  an  hour  I  recognized  over  thirty  kinds 
of  birds  in  this  pasture,  including,  among  those 
not  already  mentioned  in  these  pagea,  a  white- 
winged  crossbill,  a  chipping  sparrow,  and  several 
goldfinches.  This  white-winged  crossbill  was 
the  only  one  that  I  saw  during  my  trip,  but  red 


'Ml 


T 


1; 


¥h 


100 


FBOM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


crossbills  were  to  be  met  with  in  small  numbers 
all  through  the  region  between  Baddeck  and  In- 
gonish.  The  first  that  I  saw  appeared  in  the  air 
over  Baddeck  River,  just  as  I  was  driving  a 
horse  across  the  iron  bridge  which  spans  the  river 
on  the  road  to  the  Margaree.  The  wind  was 
blowing  so  hard  that  I  felt  some  concern  lest  my 
buggy  should  be  tipped  over ;  but  the  crossbills, 
with  their  usual  appearance  of  having  lost  either 
their  wits,  their  way,  or  their  mother,  perched 
upon  the  iron  braces  of  the  bridge  directly  over 
our  heads,  and  looked  this  way  and  that  dis- 
tractedly, with  their  feathers  all  blown  wrong 
side  out.  An  hour  or  two  later,  when  approach- 
ing Middle  River,  I  noticed  a  flock  of  blackbirds 
in  a  small  grove  by  the  roadside.  I  got  out  and 
entered  the  grove.  Every  bird  in  the  flock  of 
sixteen  seemed  to  be  reciting  blackbird  poetry, 
and  that,  too,  in  the  sweetest  voice  which  rusty 
grackles  are  capable  of  making  heard.  Although, 
on  many  other  occasions,  I  saw  representatives 
of  this  species  in  various  parts  of  Cape  Breton, 
I  was  unable  to  find  any  of  its  near  kindred. 
No  purple  grackles,  redwings,  cowbirds,  bobo- 
links, starlings,  or  orioles  crossed  my  path ;  yet 
I  saw  much  territory  in  which  they  might,  for 
all  I  could  see,  iiave  been  very  happy,  and  in 
which  song,  swamp,  and  savanna  sparrows,  Mary- 
land yellow-throats,  and  similar  birds  appeared 
to  be  established. 


AUGUST  BIRDS  IN  CAPE  BRETON. 


101 


Cape  Breton  is  unquestionably  a  favorite 
resort  of  woodpeckers,  including  the  flicker, 
hairy,  downy,  yellow-breasted,  and  black-backed, 
and  I  doubt  not  the  pileated  also,  although  I 
was  not  fortunate  enough  to  see  or  hear  him. 
Flickers  were  common,  and  consorted  much  with 
robins,  as  they  do  in  New  Hampshire  during 
their  autumn  migration.  The  hairy  woodpeck- 
ers were  most  abundant  near  highways,  where 
they  frequented  the  telegraph  poles  and  snake 
fences.  As  I  write,  I  cannot  recall  seeing  a 
hairy  woodpecker  anywhere  except  upon  the 
poles  and  fences  close  to  roads,  but  I  saw  many 
in  those  favored  places.  They  were  noticeably 
tame,  as  most  of  the  Cape  Breton  birds  were, 
and  allowed  me  to  drive  close  to  them,  while 
they  tapped  gayly  upon  the  bleached  poles,  or 
scrambled  over,  through,  and  under  the  fence 
sticks.  Downy  woodpeckers  were  less  conspicu- 
ous, and  of  the  yellow-breasted  I  saw  only  one. 
He  was  a  young  male  that  had  been  tapping 
alder  trunks  in  a  thicket  growing  upon  very 
damp  ground,  on  the  edge  of  the  Southwest  Mar- 
garee,  near  the  point  where  it  escapes  from  the 
broad  waters  of  Loch  Ainslie.  Nearly  a  dozen 
trees  had  been  bled  by  him  or  his  family.  As 
soon  as  I  entered  the  thicket  he  flew  away ;  and 
although  I  awaited  his  return  as  long  as  time 
permitted,  neither  he  nor  any  other  woodpecker 


102 


FROM  BLOMTDON  TO  SMOKY. 


hi 


or  humming-bird  came  to  the  sap  fountains. 
One  of  the  birds  which  I  most  wished  to  see  in 
the  northern  woods  was  the  black-backed,  three- 
toed  woodpecker.  I  searched  for  him  near  Bad- 
deck,  at  Loch  Ainslie,  and  on  my  journey  north- 
ward from  Baddeck  to  Ingonish,  but  he  did  not 
aj)pear.  One  morning,  during  my  journey  south- 
ward from  Cape  Smoky,  I  arose  very  early  and 
visited  the  beautiful  falls  and  caflon  of  Indian 
Brook,  which  are  about  twenty-five  miles  north 
of  Baddeck.  In  the  deep  woods  near  the  falls  I 
met  three  of  these  sprightly  birds.  I  had  con- 
cealed myself  among  the  bushes  to  call  birds 
around  me,  and  was  watching  Hudson's  Bay  tit- 
mice, common  chickadees,  flickers,  wary  wood- 
wise  robins,  juncos,  and  a  few  shy  warblers, 
when  a  woodpecker  cry,  manifestly  not  made  by 
a  flicker,  rang  through  the  woods.  High  up  on 
a  blasted  tree  was  a  medium-sized  woodpecker, 
somewhat  resembling  a  sapsucker  in  attitude 
and  air  of  being  up  and  a-coming.  I  squeaked 
more  vigorously,  and  he  came  nearer.  Then  a 
second  and  a  third  arrived,  and  all  of  them  ap- 
proached me  with  boldness  born  of  curiosity  and 
inexperience.  They  scolded  and  hitched  up  and 
down  tree  trunks,  flew  nervously  from  one  side 
of  me  to  the  other,  tapped  protests  on  the 
sounding  bark,  and  behaved  in  general  like  true 
woodpeckers.     Differences  in  birds  are  what  we 


AUGUST  BIRDS  IN  CAPE  BRETON. 


103 


think  of  most  in  studying  them ;  but  after  all, 
their  points  of  similarity,  especially  when  these 
points  hint  strongly  at  the  identity  of  the  origin 
of  species,  are  quite  as  instructive,  and  worthy 
of  serious  thought. 

Leaving  the  three-toed  inquisitors,  I  walked 
on  through  the  woods  skirting  Indian  Brook, 
and  within  quarter  of  a  mile  flushed  a  woodcock 
and  several  ruffed  grouse.  Of  the  latter  I  saw 
a  dozen  or  more  during  my  rambles  near  Bad- 
deck  and  Ingonish,  but  of  spruce  partridges  I 
failed  to  secure  even  a  glimpse,  although  all  the 
local  sportsmen  declared  the:n  to  be  abundant, 
and  as  tame  as  barnyard  fowls.  At  the  point 
where  the  highway  between  Englishtown  and 
Cape  Smoky  crosses  Indian  Brook  there  is  a 
long  and  very  deep  pool.  As  I  ertierged  from 
the  woods  above  this  pool,  I  saw  three  red- 
breasted  mergansers  swimming  slowly  across  it. 
A  prettier  spot  for  them  to  have  chosen  for  their 
morning  fishing  could  not  have  been  found  on 
the  Cape  Breton  coast.  High  ledges  overhang- 
ing dark  water,  and  overhung  in  turn  by  spruce 
and  fir  forest,  formed  a  beautiful  setting  for  the 
still  pool  across  which  they  swam  in  single  file, 
with  their  keen  eyes  watching  me  suspiciously. 
Many  are  the  young  salmon  and  speckled  trout 
they  cut  with  their  ragged  jaws. 

Had  my  visit  to  northern  Cape  Breton  fallen 


104 


fjrOaM  dlomidon  to  smoky. 


during  the  period  of  the  autumn  migration,  I 
should  have  seen  wonderful  flights  and  fleets  of 
sea  fowl.  As  it  was,  the  ppecies  which  I  saw 
and  the  individuals  which  I  met  were  few,  save 
in  the  case  of  Wilson's  tern,  which  was  ubiqui- 
tous, and  the  least  sandpiper,  which  in  numer- 
ous flocks  swarmed  upon  the  sands.  I  saw  also 
solitary  and  semipalmated  sandpipers,  greater 
yellow -legs,  herring  gulls,  dusky  ducks,  old 
squaws,  and  golden-eyes.  Blue  herons  were 
plentiful  near  Baddeck,  as  they  had  been  on  the 
Annapolis  Basin.  They  formed  a  striking  part 
of  every  evening  picture,  where  sparkling  water, 
tinted  sky,  purple  hills,  and  gathering  shadows 
were  united  under  the  magic  words  "  Bras  d'Or." 
In  Loch  o'  Law,  as  the  sun  sank  over  the  Mar- 
garee,  a  mother  loon  swam  and  dived  with  her 
chick  in  the  placid  water ;  but  the  bird  which 
impressed  itself  most  strongly  upon  my  memory, 
during  my  trip,  was  the  lonely  shag,  or  cormo- 
rant, which  I  saw  on  the  outer  end  of  a  line  of 
rocks  projecting  into  Ingonish  Bay  from  ^the 
side  of  Middle  Head.  Dark  and  slimy,  melan- 
choly and  repulsive,  its  head  and  neck  reminded 
me  of  a  snake  or  turtle  more  than  of  any  gen- 
uine feather-wearer.  When  at  last  it  saw  me,  it 
was  to  the  bay  that  it  turned  for  escape,  and 
upon  the  waters,  almost  out  of  sight,  that  it  set- 
tled down  to  rest  among  the  waves.     There  is 


■ 


AUGUST  BIRDS  IN  CAPE  BRETON.         105 

more  community  of  interest  between  this  crea- 
ture and  the  fish  which  swim  under  the  waves 
than  with  the  swallow  which  flies  above  them. 

All  told,  I  think  that  I  saw  eighty  species  of 
birds  during  my  two  weeks'  wandering  in  Cape 
Breton.  Had  I  taken  my  tame  owl  Pulfy  with 
me,  I  should  doubtless  have  seen  more,  for  he 
would  have  drawn  many  shy  birds  round  him 
which  found  no  difficulty  in  secluding  themselves 
from  me.  The  island  is  certainly  remarkably 
good  ground  for  bird  study ;  species  are  many, 
and  individuals  numerous.  The  combination  of 
ocean,  bay,  inland  lake  both  salt  and  fresh,  for- 
est, and  mountain  is  one  which  favors  diversity 
and  stimulates  abundance. 


!■! 


BARRED  OWLS   IN   CAPTIVITY. 


Chocorua  is  one  of  the  boldest,  most  pictur- 
esque, and  at  the  same  time  one  of  the  most  south- 
erly of  the  White  Mountains  of  New  Hampshire. 
At  its  southern  foot  are  several  small  lakes  fed  by 
its  streams.  The  chief  of  these  streams  is  called 
Chocorua  River,  and  its  main  lake  Chocorua 
Lake.  North  of  this  water,  fringing  the  river 
for  half  a  mile,  is  a  growth  of  yellow  birch, 
beech,  and  hemlock  of  considerable  age  and 
size.  The  dainty  parula  is  frequently  seen  in 
its  gray  moss.  Cooper's  hawks,  red-shouldered 
hawks,  and  yellow-breasted  woodpeckers  are  com- 
mon tenants  of  its  shades.  On  June  1,  1888, 
while  nest-hunting  in  its  midst,  I  saw  a  barred 
owl  sitting  on  the  edge  of  a  cavity  in  a  beech. 
The  tree  was  a  giant.  The  cavity  was  about 
thirty-five  feet  from  the  ground,  on  the  south- 
westerly side,  and  quite  large.  The  owl  did 
not  move,  even  after  I  threw  a  stick  at  her. 
Convinced  that  the  cavity  was  worth  exploring, 
I  went  home  and  returned  with  a  friend,  a  lad- 
der, and  a  gun.  As  a  result  two  old  birds  were 
shot,  and  two  young  ones  taken  from  the  nest. 


BARRED   OWLS  IN   CAPTIVITY. 


107 


The  gun  was  quite  necessary,  for  my  friend 
would  have  fared  badly  in  climbing  if  I  had 
not  shot  the  old  birds  before  they  could  attack 
him.  Their  threatening  cries  and  the  loud  snap- 
ping of  their  beaks  were  quite  enough  to  discour- 
age an  unarmed  robber. 

I  wrapped  the  two  young  birds  in  a  towel  and 
later  placed  them  side  bj  side  In  an  ordinary 
canary  cage.  They  were  savage,  using  beaks 
and  claws  vigorously.  When  released  in  my 
dooryard  they  half  hopped,  half  flew  towards  the 
nearest  tree,  making  such  rapid  progress  that  I 
did  not  risk  their  loss  by  a  second  experiment. 
For  their  permanent  prison  I  chose  a  case  in 
which  a  piano  had  been  boxed.  By  standing 
it  upon  its  end,  and  nailing  perches  at  differ- 
ent heights,  ample  space  was  given  the  captives. 
The  front  of  the  box  was  barred  horizontally  by 
laths. 

On  what  could  the  owls  be  fed  ?  That  was 
my  first  problem.  Not  sharing  in  the  belief  of 
my  family  that  everything  in  feathers  eats  dough, 
I  tried  raw  beef.  The  birds  found  it  too  tough 
to  manage  readily,  and  raw  liver  was  substituted. 
Nothing  could  have  suited  them  better,  and  for 
the  best  part  of  eighteen  months  liver  and 
beef  kidney  have  been  the  chief  of  their  diet. 
For  the  birds'  names  the  feminine  half  of  my 
household  agreed  upon  "Puffy"  and  "Fluffy." 


l\ 


108 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY, 


At  first  the  names  were  not  of  much  use,  for  no 
one  could  tell  one  bird  from  the  other,  but  it 
was  not  long  before  an  event  occurred  which  not 
only  caused  them  to  be  readily  distinguished, 
but  led  to  a  lifelong  differentiation  of  their  char- 
acters and  careers.  Puffy,  or  he  who  was  thence- 
forth to  be  Puffy,  caught  his  left  wing  between 
two  of  the  laths,  and  by  his  struggles  injured  it  so 
that  it  lest  most  of  its  usefulness  as  a  wing  and 
became  rather  an  obstruction  to  his  free  locomo- 
tion. This  happened  about  the  middle  of  June, 
after  my  return  to  Cambridge,  and  I  did  not  see 
the  owls  again  until  the  second  week  in  July,  when 
my  long  vacation  at  Chocorua  began.  I  found 
the  birds  fifty  per  cent  larger  than  when  I  first 
handled  them,  and  with  tempers  similarly  dei'^el- 
oped.  No  one's  fingers  were  safe  inside  the  oars 
when  the  young  gluttons  were  hungry.  When 
satiated  they  were  stolid,  and  did  little  beyond 
moving  their  heads  and  snapping  their  beaks. 
One  interesting  fact  had  been  developed  during 
my  absence,  —  the  owls  not  only  drank  water 
freely,  but  took  prolonged  baths  whenever  fresh 
water  was  given  them.  Their  tank  was  a  foot 
and  a  half  long,  a  foot  wide,  and  ten  inches  deep. 
Their  reflections  in  this  comparatively  deep  and 
dai'k  pool  greatly  amused  them  for  a  time.  On 
the  arrival  of  fresh  water  Fluffy  was  usually  the 
first  at  the  brink,  ready  to  drink  several  times, 


^1^ 


BARRED   OWLS  IN  CAPTIVITY. 


109 


and  then  to  step  cautiously  in.  He  would  test 
the  depth  before  ducking  his  head,  and  then, 
holding  out  his  wings,  he  would  pump  the  water 
under  them,  flapping  his  tail  and  otherwise 
drenching  himself.  When  thus  soaked  he  be- 
came about  the  size  of  a  plucked  pigeon,  the 
color  of  a  crow,  and  a  dismal  object  to  look 
upon.  His  eyes  at  such  times  would  stand  out 
from  his  drenched  and  drizzling  feathers  in  a 
most  unpleasant  way.  This  habit  of  bathing 
has  been  maintained  in  all  weathers  and  temper- 
atures. I  have  seen  both  birds  take  their  plunges 
on  mornings  when  the  mercury  outdoors  was 
not  more  than  10°  F.  On  such  occasions  they 
shiver  for  hours  before  drying.  After  washing, 
it  is  their  habit  to  preen  each  feather  in  their 
wings  and  tails  with  great  care  and  precision. 

During  the  summer  and  autumn  of  1888,  and 
at  intervals  since,  I  have  tried  various  experi- 
ments in  feeding  the  owls.  They  reject  all 
vegetable  substances  with  the  possible  exception 
of  cooked  oatmeal,  although  they  will  sometimes 
play  with  apples,  grape  leaves,  fresh  twigs,  corn- 
silk  and  husks,  tearing  them  up  solely  for  amuse- 
ment apparently,  and  flinging  fragments  in  all 
directions.  Mice  they  consider  a  rare  treat,  and 
they  swallow  them  without  hesitation,  head  fore- 
most. With  birds  they  are  equally  pleased,  but 
if  one  is  larger  than  a  redstart  they  are  quite 


110 


FROM  liLOMinON  TO  SMOKY. 


Bure  to  crush  the  skull,  sometimes  eating  the 
head  separately,  theu  to  pull  out  the  stiff  feathers, 
and  after  feeling  of  the  wing  joints,  to  swallow 
head  foremost.  A  hermit  thrush  thus  prepared 
is  about  the  limit  of  their  single  swallowing 
power.  They  sometimes,  especially  with  larger 
birds,  devour  the  contents  of  the  abdominal 
cavity  before  swallowing  the  trunk.  When  an 
appetizing  mouthful  has  been  started  on  its  down- 
ward journey  the  expression  of  gluttonous  enjoy- 
ment thrown  into  their  half-closed  eyes  and  dis- 
tended mouths  is  something  beyond  words.  One 
seems  to  see  them  taste  the  morsel  all  the  way 
down  I  If  a  mouthful  sticks  at  first,  they  jerk 
their  bodies  up  and  down  with  considerable  force, 
literally  ramming  it  in  by  concussion.  Some- 
times the  tail  of  a  warbler  thus  being  lost  to 
sight  remains  in  one  corner  of  the  owl's  mouth. 
The  owl's  practice  then  is  to  turn  his  head 
towards  it  far  enough  to  twist  the  unwilling 
feathers  into  the  middle  of  his  tongue,  and  then 
to  swallow  violently,  always  with  effect. 

With  great  interest  in  the  result,  I  placed  nine 
live  perch  and  bream  in  the  owl's  tank  one  morn- 
ing when  they  were  about  three  months  old. 
They  had  never  seen  fish  before.  As  the  light 
played  upon  the  red  fins  and  bright  scales,  the 
birds*  excitement  was  amusing  to  see.  In  a 
very  short  time,  however,  they  plunged  feet  fore- 


i 


BARRED   OWLS  IN  CAPTIVITY. 


Ill 


most  into  the  water,  and  with  almost  unerring 
aim  lanced  the  victims  with  their  talons  and  flew 
out  with  them.  Then  the  head  was  crushed  at 
its  junction  with  the  backbone,  the  spines  were 
bitten  into  jelly,  and  the  fish  was  swallowed.  I 
have  seen  half  a  dozen  small  hornpout  caught, 
disarmed,  and  swallowed  by  them  in  a  compara- 
tively short  time.  Generally  all  the  fish  in  the  I 
tank  were  caught  and  killed  before  any  were 
eaten.  Live  frogs  called  for  more  agility  than 
live  fish.  When  placed  on  the  bottom  of  the 
cage  or  in  the  water  tank,  the  frogs  seemed 
to  realize  their  danger,  and  as  a  rule  remained 
motionless.  The  owls  would  hang  their  great 
heads  towards  them,  and  eye  them  intently. 
The  faintest  sign  of  life  would  lead  to  a  pounce 
or  a  desperate  chase  round  the  cage.  When 
caught,  the  frog'was  subjected  to  a  careful  over- 
haiding.  Every  joint  was  felt  and  crushed.  As 
they  slid  the  slippery  legs  through  their  beaks 
they  seemeil  to  be  searching  for  spurs  or  horns 
which  might  prevent  easy  swallowing.  Once 
found  spurless,  the  frog  soon  vanished.  The 
wood  frog  seems  to  be  their  favorite  species,  and 
the  leopard  frog  the  least  well  flavored.  Once 
Puffy  caught  a  toad  in  the  grass,  but  the  crea- 
ture apparently  tasted  so  unpleasant  that  it  was 
quickly  dropped,  while  for  several  minutes  the 
©wl  hopped  about  shaking  his  head  and  making 


112 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


V 


motions  with  his  mouth  expressive  of  disgust  or 
even  pain.  A  small  salamander  was  eaten  with- 
out hesitation. 

Once,  when  unusually  hungry,  the  owls  de- 
voured more  than  a  pint  of  large,  fat  earth- 
worms, taking  them  from  my  fingers,  or  picking 
them  up  singly  with  their  claws  with  wonderful 
dexterity.  A  plump  slug  was  taken  readily  by 
Puffy,  but  almost  instantly  flung  froin  his  mouth 
with  disgust.  Fresh  water  mussels,  abundant  in 
Chocorua  Lake,  were  taken  with  some  hesitation 
and,  I  fancied,  made  Puffy  miserable. 

Flies,  harvest  flies,  dragon  flies,  grasshoppers, 
and  beetles  of  various  kinds  all  proved  enjoy- 
able tidbits,  but  of  snakes  and  turtles  the  owls 
stood  in  terror  during  the  summer  of  1888.  The 
appearance  of  either  led  the  birds  to  make  des- 
perate efforts  to  escape  between  the  upper  slats 
of  their  cage.  What  was  my  surprise  then,  in 
the  summer  of  1889,  to  find  that  so  far  as  snakes 
were  concerned,  timidity  was  changed  to  curi- 
osity, and  curiosity  quickly  transformed  into  an 
eager  desire  to  catch,  kill,  and  swallow.  Even 
a  dead  milk  snake,  three  feet  long  and  fat,  was 
eaten  piecemeal  until  only  the  well-picked  skele- 
ton remained.  This  was  done  in  August,  1889. 
Small  green  snakes  were  seized  by  their  middle 
and  swallowed  doubled,  while  still  writhing. 

Generally  fresh  meat  is  greatly  prefcired  to 


BARRED   OWLS  IN  CAPTIVITY. 


113 


that  which  is  stale.  I  have  seen  both  owls  re- 
tire in  disgust  to  the  top  cf  their  cage  when 
some  thoroughly  offensive  liver  was  offered  them. 
On  the  other  hand  they  devoured  the  skinned 
carcass  of  a  broad-winged  hawk  when  it  was 
in  almost  as  advanced  a  stage  of  decay,  and 
once  recently,  when  I  placed  a  piece  of  luminous 
kidney  in  their  closet  at  night,  Puffy  instantly 
pounced  upon  it.  1  have  no  doubt  from  other 
experiments  that  the  light  of  the  decaying  meat, 
and  not  its  smell,  was  what  attracted  him. 

On  one  occasion  I  found  a  large  number  of 
mice  in  a  barrel  of  excelsior.  Carefully  taking 
out  most  of  the  packing,  I  placed  Puffy  in  the 
bottom  of  the  barrel.  The  mice  spun  round  him 
in  confusing  circles,  but  with  great  coolness  he 
caught  one  after  another  until  nineteen  were  dis- 
posed of.  The  owls  between  them  ate  the  entire 
number  within  six  hours.  Puffy  is  also  expert 
in  catching  and  killing  chipmunks,  when  placed 
with  them  in  a  barrel.  After  seeing  one  or  two 
let  out  of  a  box  trap  for  his  benefit,  the  sight  of 
the  trap  was  enough  to  bring  him  to  the  door  of 
the  cage  ready  to  act  as  executioner.  The  junc- 
tion of  the  head  and  body  of  a  vertebrate  is  the 
point  always  chosen  for  the  first  effective  use 
of  the  beak.  The  struggles  of  a  dying  victim 
seem  to  cause  a  certain  cat-like  excitement  and 
pleasure. 


114 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


ir 


During  the  warm  months  the  owls  require 
food  daily,  and  in  considerable  quantities.  As 
cold  weather  comes  on,  their  demands  grow  more 
moderate,  and  in  midwinter  they  eat  little  and 
seem  drowsy  most  of  the  time.  Once  or  twice 
I  have  failed  to  feed  them  for  nearly  a  week 
after  giving  them  a  hearty  ration.  In  summer, 
when  fed  frequently,  and  on  mixed  animal  food, 
they  often  eject  from  their  throats  round  pellets 
made  up  of  the  bones,  hair,  feathers,  or  other 
undigested  portions  of  their  preceding  meal. 
Once  or  twice  these  ejections  have  been  ex- 
tremely offensive  in  odor.  When  hungry  the 
owls  betray  the  fact  by  whining  cries.  When 
fed,  if  both  secure  a  hold  on  the  fiist  piece  of 
liver,  a  spirited  tug  of  war  ensues,  wings,  beak, 
free  foot,  and  tail  ail  being  used  to  gain  ground. 
During  such  a  scrimmage  a  queer  chattering 
with  an  undertone  of  angry  whining  is  kept  up, 
but  I  never  have  seen  either  bird  attempt  to 
wound  or  really  injure  the  other.  Food  not  re- 
quired by  one  of  the  owls  for  immediate  use  is 
always  hidden  in  a  corner,  and  often  guarded 
with  care  against  appropriation  by  the  other. 

Contrary  to  my  expectations  the  owls  are  not 
appreciably  more  active  in  twilight  hours  than 
at  other  times,  and  I  think  they  are  quiet,  possi- 
bly asleep,  at  night.  I  am  certain  that  in  an 
ordinary  degree  of  darkness  they  cannot  sec     If 


2 1\ 


S 


BARRED   OWLS  IN  CAPTIVITY, 


116 


the  light  goes  out  while  Fluffy  is  flying  in  my 
cellar  in  the  evening,  he  is  sure  to  crash  into 
something  or  fall  heavily  to  the  ground.  I  have 
held  Puffy  close  to  a  cat  in  the  dark,  and  he  was 
wholly  unaware  of  her  presence.  Neither  of 
them  has  ever  shown  a  dislike  for  sunlight,  and, 
as  will  be  seen  hereafter,  they  can  see  without 
difficulty  in  the  face  of  the  brightest  natural 
light.  While  watching  anything  which  inter- 
ests them  they  have  a  most  characteristic  habit 
of  throwing  their  heads  far  forward  and  then 
swinging  them  about  like  signal  lanterns,  or 
waving  them  back  and  forth  and  up  and  down, 
as  if  seeking  the  clearest  avenue  of  vision  to 
the  object  of  interest.  This  trick  is  probably 
due  to  their  ancestors'  peering  through  thick 
branches  in  search  of  prey. 

About  the  third  week  in  September,  1888,  the 
owls  were  sent  by  freight  from  Chocorua  to 
Cambridge.  The  journey  failed  to  disturb  them, 
and  they  took  kindly  to  city  life  in  a  sunny  cor- 
ner of  my  cellar.  Their  near  neighbors  were 
my  hens,  who  resented  deeply  my  early  experi- 
mcL'ts  in  letting  the  owls  out  in  their  narrow  do- 
minion. The  hens  fought  them  bravely  when 
brought  to  close  quarters.  My  first  test  with 
the  owls  at  liberty  proved  that  they  neither 
feared  me  nor  desired  l^o  attack  me.  They  rec- 
ognized me  as  their  caterer,  and  hailed  my  ap- 


i 


116 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


proach  with  noisy  demands  for  food.  I  began 
handling  them  with  heavy  gloves  which  their 
beaks  and  talons  made  little  impression  upon. 
Gradually  I  came  to  use  my  bare  hands,  and 
with  Puffy  especially  I  was  soon  on  familiar 
terms.  The  way  in  which  I  accustomed  him  to 
handling  was  by  first  rubbing  the  top  of  his 
head  with  one  finger,  and  then  softly  rubbing 
the  back  of  his  head  and  neck  with  my  finger 
tips.  During  the  process  he  seemed  almost  mes- 
merized, although  occasionally  he  would  recover 
himself  and  make  a  swift  snap  at  my  retreating 
fingers.  In  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  I  gained 
sufficient  influence  over  both  birds  to  carry  them 
about  with  great  freedom,  always  beginning  by 
pushing  their  heads  down,  and  then  clasping 
them  round  their  bodies  just  below  the  wings. 
If  turned  on  their  backs  while  thus  held,  they 
remain  entirely  quiet. 

During  the  greater  part  of  the  long  winter  I 
keep  them  in  a  closet  in  my  main  cellar.  I  fomid 
to  my  cost  that  I  could  not  keep  them  in  the 
sunny  cellar  where  my  hens  were,  for  the  reason 
that  they  caught  and  ate  some  of  my  pullets  and 
terrified  the  survivors  so  that  their  lives  were  a 
burden.  Their  only  delicacies  in  these  months 
are  mice.  Their  attitudes  in  chasing  a  dead 
mouse  dragged  over  the  cellar  by  a  string  are 
striking.     Fluffy  sails  noiselessly  over  the  ground 


BARRED   OWLS  IN  CAPTIVITY. 


117 


with  feet  pointed  forward  and  claws  ready  to 
close  ;  but  Puffy,  unable  to  fly,  stalks  across  the 
floor,  his  head  pushed  forward,  and  his  feathers 
drawn  away  from  his  legs. 

As  the  spring  of  1889  came  on,  the  owls  be- 
came tuneful  after  their  kind.  The  quality  of 
their  sounds  suggested  feline  music,  while  their 
accent  and  metre  often  aroused  my  roosters  to 
responsive  crowing.  They  seldom  hooted  more 
than  once  or  twice,  and  then  in  the  early  evening. 

With  the  coming  of  warm  weather  and  the 
return  of  birds  in  the  spring  of  1889,  I  began  a 
series  of  experiments  with  Puffy  which  proved 
of  considerable  interest.  I  had  found  that  he 
was  willing  to  be  carried  about  while  perching 
on  a  short  stick.  Taking  him  in  a  basket  to  some 
woods  in  the  suburbs  of  Cambridge,  I  displayed 
him  to  the  robins,  pigeon  woodpeckers,  vireos 
and  warblers  which  chanced  to  be  at  hand. 
No  impressario  ever  was  more  delighted  at  the 
success  of  a  new  star.  A  full  house  gathered  at 
once.  Armed  with  a  field  glass  I  had  the  satis- 
faction of  studying  at  short  range  the  whole  bird 
population  of  the  neighborhood.  The  robins, 
brown  thrushes,  and  pigeon  woodpeckers  were 
the  noisiest,  the  oven-birds  and  red-eyed  vireos 
the  most  persistent,  the  chickadees  the  most  in- 
dignant. The  woodpeckers  went  so  far  as  to  fly 
past  the  owl  so  close  as  to  brush  his  feathers 


III 


118 


FROM  BLOMIDON   TO  SMOKY. 


and  make  him  jump  at  each  charge.  On  May  12, 
during  a  three  hours'  walk,  I  saw  over  forty 
species  of  birds,  many  of  which  I  had  unusual 
and  ample  time  to  study  through  my  glass,  thanks 
to  their  interest  in  the  owl  and  consequent  indif- 
ference to  me.  It  was  not,  however,  until  my 
long  vacation  in  Chocorua,  beginning  July  6, 
that  I  really  had  time  to  ascertain  the  full  value 
as  a  magnet  of  my  patient  little  bird  companion. 
The  owls  made  the  journey  back  to  the  moun- 
tains with  perfect  composure.  On  being  returned 
to  their  piano-box  cage  they  promptly  sought 
their  respective  corners,  and  showed  in  many 
ways  their  recognition  of  old  surroundings.  This 
power  of  memory  was  even  more  strongly  shown 
on  their  arrival  in  Cambridge  in  October,  1889, 
when  Fluffy  flew  across  the  cellar  in  search  of 
a  favorite  perch  which  had  been  removed,  and  the 
absence  of  which  caused  him  to  end  his  flight  in 
an  ignominious  tumble. 

On  my  arrival  at  Chocorua  I  began  to  keep 
systematic  account  of  all  birds  seen  each  day, 
making  careful  allowance  for  birds  seen  twice  in 
the  same  day.  Between  July  6,  and  Oct.  14,  I 
recognized  9782  birds,  representing  95  species. 
On  nearly  half  ihe  days  in  this  period  Puffy  was 
my  companion  on  my  walks  and  rides.  At  first 
it  was  not  easy  to  induce  him  to  leave  his  cage 
and  accompany  me,  but  after  a  few  lessons  he 


' 


m 


BARRED   OWLS  IN  CAPTIVITY.  119 

consented  to  step  from  his  perch  upon  the  short 
pine  stick  on  which  I  used  to  carry  him,  and  to 
remain  clinging  to  it  while  I  walked  or  ran, 
scrambled  over  ledges,  or  forced  my  way  through 
thickets  and  brambles.  He  went  more  than  on'*" 
to  the  heights  of  Chocorua  ;  passed  hours  trav- 
eling through  dark  woods  and  high  pastures  ;  or 
perched  resignedly  on  the  sharp  prow  of  my  Rush- 
ton  boat,  watching  dragon-flies  skimming  the 
surface  of  the  lake,  and  his  own  image  reflected 
in  the  water.  In  the  woods,  if  I  held  him  too 
near  a  tempting  log  or  proje  ing  branch,  he 
would  hop  off.  Sometimes  he  would  weary  of 
my  walking,  and,  jumping  to  the  ground,  would 
scurry  away  to  cover  and  snap  his  beak  angrily 
if  I  poked  his  perch  in  towards  him  and  told  him 
to  "  get  on."  As  the  summer  wore  on  he  grew 
more  and  more  obedient  and  less  inclined  to  nip 
my  fingers  on  the  sly  as  he  had  a  way  of  doing 
when  I  first  carried  him  about.  This  winter  I 
have  trained  Fluffy  to  step  up  beside  his  mate  and 
submit  to  being  carried  around  the  house  on  a 
perch. 

Whenever  on  my  summer  walks  I  came  to 
a  spot  which  I  wished  to  "  sample  "  for  its  birds,  I 
would  place  Puffy  on  a  bending  sapling,  and, 
hiding  in  the  neighboring  foliage,  I  would 
"  squeak  "  by  drawing  in  my  breath  over  the  back 
of  my  hand,  to  attract  the  attention  of  any  birds 


'^ 


I 


120 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


\<        1 


M' 


III 
ii 


which  were  near  by.  Usually  in  the  deep  woods 
the  first  comer  was  a  red-eyed  vireo,  chickadee, 
hermit  thrush,  or  oven-bird  ;  but  whichever  it 
chanced  to  be,  an  alarm  was  almost  sure  to  be 
given  that  would  bring  birds  from  all  directions 
eager  to  see  the  cause  of  disturbance.  Even  when 
I  was  imperfectly  concealed,  the  irritated  crowd 
paid  little  attention  to  me,  provided  I  kept  rea- 
sonably quiet.  Sometimes  I  would  leave  the  owl 
in  comparatively  open  ground  on  a  boulder  in  a 
pasture,  or  a  stump  in  a  meadow.  Then  his  fa- 
vorite position  was  with  his  head  tipped  directly 
backward  and  his  eyes,  half  closed,  fixed  either 
on  the  sun  or  a  spot  not  ten  degrees  from  it.  I 
never  could  fully  understand  this  attitude,  but  I 
soon  found  that  the  owl  was  keenly  alive  to  any- 
thing passing  skyward,  for  if  a  hawk  or  crow 
came  into  view  far  away  in  the  deep  blue,  Puffy's 
gaze  was  instantly  turned  full  upon  the  growing 
speck,  the  eyelids  partly  closed  and  a  most  intent 
look  coming  into  his  eyes.  Again  and  again 
Puffy  has  seen  hawks  or  gulls  overhead  which 
my  eyes,  although  unusually  far-sighted,  have  at 
first  been  unable  to  discern.  On  one  eventful 
day  he  showed  me  334  hawks  sailing  southwest 
under  the  pressure  of  a  stiff  northeast  gale.  It 
was  September  10,  one  of  the  later  of  the  days 
when  the  fires  were  raging  among  the  forests 
along  the  St.  John   River.     The   hawks  were 


I 


BARRED   OWLS  IN  CAPTIVITY 


121 


ll 

k 

[t 
is 

r 
ie 


most  of  them  flying  very  high.  I  saw  none  be- 
fore 9  A.  M.  or  after  2.15  p.  m.  I  think  Puffy 
saw  every  one  of  them.  It  mattered  not  whether 
they  came  singly  or  in  bunches  of  twenty  to  forty, 
his  ever  ready  eye  was  upon  them  as  soon  as  they 
came  into  view.  In  spite  of  this  marvelous 
power  of  detecting  moving  objects  in  a  bright 
light,  my  pets  often  utterly  ignore  some  dainty 
morsel  merely  because  it  does  not  move.  Their 
sense  of  smell  is  either  weak  or^  uncertain  in  its 
action.  Their  hearing  on  the  other  hand  is  acute, 
although  not  depended  upon  in  the  same  degree 
as  their  sight. 

Of  the  various  families  of  birds  which  Puffy 
annoyed  during  the  summer  of  1889,  none 
were  more  distressed  and  angered  by  his  pres- 
ence than  the  woodpeckers,  thrushes,  and  vireos. 
In  every  hemlock  swamp  the  yellow-breasted 
woodpeckers  and  flickers  said  their  say  against 
his  character  with  petulant  emphasis.  The 
flickers  often  flew  close  to  his  head.  Downies 
and  hairies  liked  him  no  better,  but  were  less 
demonstrative.  It  was  when  a  venerable  and 
fiery-tempered  logcock  caught  sight  of  him  on 
August  21,  that  the  full  force  of  woodpecker 
eloquence  was  let  out.  Puffy  seemed  to  recog- 
nize a  hereditary  foe,  for  before  the  pileated 
came  into  my  view,  the  owl  suddenly  changed 
his  appearance  from  rough-feathered  and  sleepy 


t 


n 


12^ 


FROM  DLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY.    5 


content  to  an  astonishing  resemblance  to  an  old 
moss-grown  stump.  He  effected  the  transfoima- 
tion  by  standing  up  very  straight,  nearly  closing 
his  eyes,  and  making  his  feathers  lie  absolutely 
sleek  against  his  attenuated  body.  Once  on 
another  occasion  when  he  ran  away  from  me,  he 
climbed  to  the  top  of  a  small  oak  stump  and 
made  himself  look  so  like  a  continuation  of  it 
that  I  passed  him  four  times  without  detecting 
his  presence.  Not  so  the  pileated,  for  with  a 
shrieking  cackle,  his  crest  gleaming  in  the  sun- 
light, he  flew  at  the  owl  so  savagely  that  I  ex- 
pected to  see  my  pet  slain  on  the  spot.  He  only 
ruffled  Puffy's  feathers,  however,  and  made  the 
poor  bird  unhappy  for  some  time  by  his  dis- 
cordant cries  and  frequent  flights  and  counter 
flights. 

Of  the  thrushes.,  the  robins  took  the  owl 
most  to  heart.  More  than  once  in  black  cherry 
time  I  have  seen  sixty  to  a  hundred  of  them 
within  twenty-five  feet  of  him.  Their  blended 
cries  always  drew  hermits  and  Swainson's  from 
the  woods,  cedarbirds  from  their  cherry  feasts, 
and  detachments  of  warblers  from  woods  and 
meadows.  The  veeries  seemed  to  care  least 
about  their  enemy ;  the  hermits  said  little,  but 
did  some  hard  thinking.  The  Swainson's,  es- 
pecially after  sunset,  had  a  good  deal  to  say  in 
a  refined  way,  flirting  wings  and  tail  meanwhile. 


BARRKD   OWLS   IN  CAPTIVITY. 


123 


The  numerous  catbirds  and  occasional  thrash- 
ers were  coarsely  abusive.  Throuj^h  it  all  Puffy 
made  no  remarks,  and  seldom  stirred  ;  he  found 
out  long  ago  that  he  could  not  catch  birds. 

The  ubiquitous  red-eyed  vireo  never  wearied 
of  staring  at  Puffy,  and  firing  at  him  his  sus- 
picious, expostulating  "  cree !  "  By  roadside 
and  meadow,  upland  j)asture,  and  in  the  deeps 
of  the  beeches,  the  red-eye  was  always  present. 
Even  in  the  haunts  of  the  juncos  and  white- 
throated  sparrows  on  the  high  ledges  of  Cho- 
corua  he  was  not  absent.  My  count  of  birds  in 
July  showed  him  to  be  inferior  in  niunbers  only 
to  the  barn  swallow,  the  cedar-bird,  and  the 
robin.  Far  less  numerous,  but  a  leader  among 
the  haters  of  the  owl,  was  the  blue-headed, 
vireo.  I  had  seen  little  of  the  bird  in  previous 
seasons,  but  Puffy  seemed  to  draw  one  or  more 
of  them  from  every  considerable  area  visited. 
Their  scolding  reminded  me  of  an  angry  June- 
bug  in  a  bottle. 

As  a  rule  the  sparrows  cared  little  for  the 
owl.  Purple  finches  would  come  and  look  him 
over,  the  female  making  a  sweet  little  note  of 
inquisitive  protest,  and  then  go  away.  Gold- 
finches did  about  the  same,  showing  no  anger. 
Grass  finches  sat  about  on  boulders  and  said 
little,  and  their  friends,  the  fi(;l(l  sparrows,  be- 
haved similarly^      In  huge  swumpti  one  or  two 


124 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


rose-breasted  grosbeaks  generally  came  to  see 
what  caused  so  much  outcry,  but  they  never  ap- 
proached close  to  the  owl.  During  the  flight  of 
j  uncos,  white-throats,  and  white-crowned  spar- 
rows in  October,  these  species  seemed  to  care 
almost  nothing  about  Puffy  after  a  first  bustling 
visit  of  inquiry. 

A  bird  of  great  individuality  and  irregular 
distribution  is  found  quite  abundantly  in  the 
Chocorua  country.  I  refer  to  the  great-crested 
flycatcher,  which,  by  the  way,  has  always  placed 
snake  skins  in  those  of  its  nests  that  I  have 
found.  No  amount  of  bird  clamor  will  bring 
this  self-contained  and  suspicious  citizen  near  my 
owl.  He  has  his  \vn  affairs  to  care  for,  and  he 
has  a  contempt  for  brawls  and  gossip.  Similar 
indifference  was  shown  the  owl  in  a  less  marked 
way  by  the  smaller  flycatchers,  but  the  kingbirds 
maintained  their  reputation  for  bullying  by  at- 
tacking Puffy  and  striking  him  lightly  again 
and  again  by  well-directed  darts  from  above. 

The  swallows  and  swifts  delighted  to  tease  the 
owl  by  dashing  past  him  and  fanning  him  with 
their  wings.  They  showed  no  fear  or  hatred. 
Kingfishers  took  no  notice  of  him.  The  black- 
billed  cuckoo  came  near,  and  had  a  good  deal 
to  say  in  a  reproachful  voice,  but  its  controlling 
emotion  seemed  to  be  curiosity  rather  than  fear. 
Late  one  afternoon  in  August  (^the  2d),  I  placed 


BARRED   OWLS  IN  CAPTIVITY. 


125 


Puffy  in  tho  midst  of  a  white  birch  grove  near  a 
brook.  A  cuckoo  opened  the  opera  and  brought 
some  vireos,  including  two  solitaries.  Their  ex- 
plosions were  audible  a  long  way,  and  for  a 
moment  or  two  the  air  seemed  full  of  birds, 
nearly  all  warblers,  and  all  coming  towards  tho 
owl.  I  could  not  count  them  ;  they  came  by 
scores  and  swarmed  about  incessantly  like  bees. 
Most  of  them  were  black-and-white  creepers, 
black -throated  greens,  chestnut  -  sideds,  black- 
and- yellows,  Canadians,  and  redstarts,  young 
birds  predominating.  I  never  expect  to  see 
more  warblers  in  one  noisy  bunch.  As  a  rule, 
however,  a  glance  or  two  seemed  to  satisfy  them, 
and  they  went  off  after  their  suppers.  Of  all 
the  warblers,  the  oven-birds  were  the  only  ones 
at  all  persistent  in  abusing  Puffy.  They  would 
come  quickly  and  stay  long,  with  ruffled  feathers 
and  anxious  notes.  One  day  (July  14),  while 
exploring  some  dense  spruce  thickets  '^n  a  high 
ridge  of  Chocorua,  I  came  across  a  pai)  f  black- 
poll  warblers.  They  were  much  excitou  by  the 
owl  and  joined  with  juncos  and  white-throats 
in  prolonged  complaining  at  his  presence.  A 
white- winged  crossbill,  flying  by  at  the  moment, 
alighted  and  looked  us  over,  but  was  apparently 
not  at  all  interested  in  Puffy. 

Another  bird  which  never  showed  any  special 
emotion  on  seeing  the  owl,  no  matter  what  the 


126 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


season,  was  the  scarlet  tanager.  As  a  rule  it 
took  no  notice  of  the  owl's  presence.  Cedar- 
birds  were  similarly  indifferent  even  when  the 
owl  was  near  their  nests  or  young. 

Crows  and  blue  jays  showed  great  hatred  of 
the  owl.  In  the  late  summer  the  jays  prowled 
about  in  considerable  flocks.  By  "  squeaking  "  I 
could  draw  them  near  enough  to  see  the  owl, 
and  then  the  harshest  and  most  violent  kind  of 
bird  abuse  would  be  poured  out  on  Puffy's  head. 
Jays  certainly  have  a  broad  knowledge  of  pro- 
fanity. The  crows  were  scarcely  less  demon- 
strative ;  circling  low  over  the  owl,  they  made 
the  woods  ring  with  their  angry  clamor.  I 
found  that  I  could  attract  them  by  hooting  like 
my  pets. 

As  a  rule  the  hawks  cared  little  for  the  owl. 
I  shot  one  young  Cooper's  hawk  near  its  nest 
because  my  calling  and  the  owl's  moving  about 
induced  the  creature  to  fly  up,  tree  by  tree,  until 
within  range.  On  July  23,  while  "  squeaking," 
I  was  astonished  to  see  a  sharp-shinned  hawk 
make  a  dash  at  Puffy,  scaring  him  into  his  stump- 
like condition  of  plumage  and  attitude.  I  con- 
tinued to  "  squeak,"  and  the  hawk  flew  straight 
at  my  head,  grazed  my  face,  and  alighted  near 
by.  Soon  a  second  came,  but  was  more  wary.  I 
amused  myself  with  them  for  half  an  hour,  and 
again  on  another  day  a  week  later.    On  no  other 


f 


BARRED   OWLS  IN  CAPTIVITY. 


127 


n- 


I 

id 


occasion  do  I  remember  a  hawk's  taking  any  no- 
tice of  Puffy,  although  in  many  instances  he  has 
betrayed  their  presence  by  his  change  of  shape 
and  expression.  Once  while  walking  with  him 
along  the  shore  of  Chocorua  Lake  he  changed 
his  whole  appearance  in  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye,  and  as  I  turned  to  follow  his  gaze  I  saw 
an  eagle  strike  the  water  near  by,  dashing  the 
foam  high  into  the  air. 

About  sunset  on  August  12,  1889,  I  heard  a 
barred  owl  hooting  near  a  small  lake  close  to 
the  foot  of  Chocorua.  Two  of  us  set  c'lt  at 
once  with  guns  and  reached  the  crest  of  a  kame 
near  the  lake  just  as  the  moon  rose.  After  wait- 
ing quietly  until  weary,  I  began,  hooting,  and  to 
my  surprise  and  delight  an  owl  responded  from 
a  tree  close  by.  I  hooted  again ;  it  came  nearer. 
Then  I  "  squeaked,"  and  the  next  second  I  has- 
tened to  hide  my  head  in  the  bushes,  for  the 
wings  of  an  owl  had  brushed  my  face  in  the 
darkness,  making  cold  shivers  run  down  my 
back.  We  fired  three  times  at  this  owl  and 
another  which  joined  him,  but  failed  to  kill 
either.  After  amusing  myself  and  others  sev- 
eral evenings  by  calling  the  owls  in  this  way,  I 
took  Puffy  with  me  and  placed  him  on  a  swing- 
ing bough  where  he  was  plainly  visible  to  cre- 
puscular eyesight.  Several  Swainson's  thrushes 
found  him  out  before  twilight  faded,  and  com- 


'-fM^A''3!^'^:--\iX:-i, 


128 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


plained  softly  at  his  presence.  When  all  was 
still,  I  hooted,  and  soon  an  owl  replied  from 
the  farther  shore  of  the  lake.  Continuing  to 
call,  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  my  bird  fly 
close  over  Puffy's  head  and  alight  within  easy 
range,  another  owl  at  the  same  tin-e  beginning 
to  hoot  close  by.  I  shot  one  and  was  satisfied. 
Puffy  and  Fluffy  always  show  great  excitement 
when  wild  owk  hoot  at  night,  and  occasionally 
Fluffy  replies. 

The  only  other  owl  which  I  have  seen  thus 
far  in  the  Chocorua  region  is  the  Acadian.  On 
July  18,  about  six  p.  m.,  listening  to  four  great- 
crested  flycatchers  signaling  each  other  in  a 
wooded  pasture,  I  noted  an  unusual  commotion 
among  robins,  hermits,  and  vireos  in  a  bunch 
of  alders  not  far  away.  Creeping  in,  with  Puffy 
held  before  me,  I  saw  the  scolds  surrounding  a 
buff-waistcoated  young  Acadian  perched  about 
five  feet  from  the  ground  on  an  alder.  He  saw 
Puffy,  and  Puffy  looked  at  him  with  interest  and 
attention.  The  agony  in  the  little  bird's  yellow 
eyes  was  pitiful.  He  gazed  long,  and  then,  turn- 
ing his  head  slowly  away,  sailed  noiselessly  out 
of  sight,  followed  by  the  gossips. 

There  are  several  of  the  Chocorua  birds  which 
I  have  not  named  in  connection  with  the  owl. 
The  bluebirds  seemed  grieved  to  think  anything 
so  wicked  could  exist.      They  perched  near  him 


BARRED   OWLS  IN  CAPTIVITY. 


129 


and  seemed  to  be  trying  with  their  sweet  tones 
to  induce  him  to  give  up  being  an  owl.  The 
kinglets  cared  nothing  for  him,  even  when  their 
curiosity  was  aroused  by  the  abuse  of  chickadees, 
who  were  among  the  noisiest  of  Puffy's  visitors. 
Both  nuthatches  are  common  near  Chocorua, 
and  both  showed  by  brief,  business-like  remarks 
what  they  thought  of  Puffy.  Winter  wrens 
told  Puffy  plainly  that  he  was  a  thief.  The 
indigo -bird  was  one  of  the  few  finches  which 
seemed  much  disturbed  by  him.  The  towhee 
showed  moderate  excitement.  The  Icteridce 
(American  starlings),  are  uncommon  in  the  Cho- 
corua region,  and  none  of  them  met  Puffy  in  his 
native  meadows.  About  Cambridge,  however, 
orioles,  redwings,  crow  blackbirds,  and  cow  bunt- 
ings all  showed  marked  excitement  and  anger  at 
his  presence.  Night-hawks  and  whippoorwills 
have  not  met  Puffy.  I  hope  next  summer  to 
arrange  an  interview  with  a  whippoorwill  who 
haunts  my  pasture  bars.  Once  or  twice  hum- 
ming-birds have  buzzed  a  moment  near  Puffy's 
head,  as  if  adding  their  small  tribute  of  hatred 
to  the  general  estimate  of  his  character. 

None  of  the  few  species  of  game  and  water 
birds  found  near  Chocorua  Lakes  have  seemed  to 
show  any  interest  in  the  owls. 

I  have  recently  taken  Puffy  to  Chocorua  in 
the  season  of  snow.     Of  the  eight  species  of  birds 


ipHvf 


m 


m 


130 


FJiOAf  liLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY 


met,  only  four  saw  the  owl.  They  were  chicka- 
dees, red-breasted  nuthatches,  redpolls,  and  blue 
jays.  They  all  scolded  him,  but  not  with  the 
average  summer  emphasis.  The  redpolls  showed 
only  mild  curiosity  which  soon  expended  itself 
in  gentle  reproachful  phrases.  Puffy  did  not 
mind  cold,  but  the  light  from  the  snow  seemed 
to  b  lid  him.  Indoors  he  held  two  young  hounds 
at  bay,  and  made  their  lives  miserable  by  refus- 
ing to  allow  them  to  come  near  his  corner  with- 
out risking  an  attack  from  his  beak  and  claws. 
With  dogs  and  cats  outdoors  he  always  shows 
fear  unless  they  come  to  close  quarters ;  then,  as 
indoors,  he  spreads  and  arches  his  wings,  raises 
his  feathers  on  his  back,  lowers  his  head,  aad 
snaps  his  beak,  sometimes  making  swift  rusnes 
with  an  expression  so  fierce  that  I  have  yec  to 
find  any  quadruped  willing  to  defy  him. 


SAPSUCKERS  AND  THEIR  GUESTS. 


I  r,. 


Of  the  seven  species  of  woodpeckers  which  I 
have  found  in  the  region  of  Mt.  Chocorua,  New 
Hampshire,  the  yellow-breasted  or  sapsucker  is 
the  most  numerous.  It  may  fairly  be  said  to 
be  abundant  in  that  district.  I  base  this  state- 
ment upon  my  daily  count  of  birds  seen  between 
April  and  the  middle  of  October  in  the  years 
1889  and  1890.  I  frequently  record  seeing  from 
seven  to  ten  of  these  birds  in  a  day.  Their  fa- 
vorite haunts  are  mixed  growths  of  young  birch, 
larch,  hemlock,  maple  and  white  ash  bordering 
wate"  or  wet  lands. 

My  attention  has  been  drawn  to  the  yellow- 
breasted  woodpeckers  on  two  accounts,  —  their 
quickness  to  observe  and  persistence  in  scolding 
my  tame  owls  when  in  the  woods ;  and  their  de- 
struction of  certain  forest  trees. 

During  the  summer  of  1890, 1  was  led  to  spend 
a  considerable  time  in  close  study  of  these  wood- 
peckers and  their  feeding  habits,  by  the  peculiar 
relations  which  I  noticed  as  seeming  to  exist  be- 
tween them  and  humming-birds.  My  observa- 
tions were  given  point  by  my  recollection  of  the 


ll 


132 


FRO.lf  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


difference  of  opinion  among  ornithologists  re- 
garding the  diet  of  these  woodpeckers  and  their 
motive  for  tapping  sap-yielding  trees.  I  had 
heard  it  said  that  their  sole  reason  for  drawing 
the  sap  was  to  attract  insects  which  they  then 
fed  upon.  I  had  also  heard  that  they  ate  the 
tender  cambium  layer  which  intervenes  between 
the  bark  and  wood  of  trees.  I  knew  well  that 
the  birds  were  insect-eaters,  for  I  had  often  seen 
them  fly  into  the  air  with  the  grace  of  a  tyrant 
flycatchr^T  or  cedar-bird  and  capture  insects  on 
the  wing. 

On  July  19,  while  watching  a  group  of  birds 
gathered  in  the  woods  around  my  tame  owl, 
Puffy,  two  yellow-breasted  woodpeckers  and  a 
humming-bird  attracted  my  attention.  The  wood- 
peckers were  scolding  the  owl,  when  the  hum- 
ming-bird darted  towards  one  of  them,  hummed 
before  it,  rushed  at  the  other,  and  then  seeing 
the  owl  flew  at  him  squeaking  furiously.  Then 
it  flew  back  to  the  first  sapsucker  and  perched 
near  it.  On  the  21st,  I  returned  to  the  spot  and 
found  near  by  a  sapsucker's  "  orchard  "  of  about 
a  dozen  canoe  birches  and  red  maples,  most  of 
w}iich  were  dead,  some  decayed  and  fallen.  The 
tree  most  recently  tapped  was  a  red  maple  about 
forty  feet  high  and  two  feet  through  at  the  but. 
The  drills  made  by  the  woodpeckers  began 
eighteen  feet  from  the  ground  and  formed  a  gir- 


SAPSUCKEItS  AND  THEIR  GUESTS. 


133 


die  entirely  around  the  trunk.  This  girdle  con- 
tained over  800  punctures  and  was  about  three 
feet  in  height.  In  places  the  punctures  or 
drills  had  run  together,  causing  the  bark  to  gape 
and  show  dry  wood  within.  The  upper  holes 
alone  yielded  sap.  From  this  I  inferred  that 
what  the  birds  obtained  was  the  elaborated  sap 
descending  from  the  leaves  through  the  fibres  of 
the  inner  bark.  I  tasted  the  sap  and  found  it 
unmistakably  sweet.  The  leaves  on  branches 
above  the  drills  drooped ;  those  below  were  in 
good  condition.  I  watched  the  drills  on  this 
tree  from  12.30  P.  M.  until  2,  and  from  4  until  6. 
I  wPi  concealed  in  the  bushes  to  the  northwest 
of  the  tree.  During  almost  all  of  this  period 
of  three  and  a  half  hours  one  or  more  wood- 
peckers were  in  the  tree  engaged  at  the  drills. 
They  were  a  male,  female  and  two  young  birds. 
Four  visits  were  paid  by  humming-birds  in  the 
time  named.  The  visitors  were  driven  away  by 
the  woodpeckers.  At  5.30  I  shot  one  of  the 
young  birds  in  order  to  determine  the  number 
of  individuals  using  the  orchard.  His  absence 
was  unnoticed  by  the  survivors. 

The  next  day,  July  22,  I  watched  from  9.30 
A.  M.  until  1  P.  M.  The  male,  female  and  one 
young  bird  were  present,  the  tree  being  seldom 
left  by  all  at  once.  Ten  visits  were  paid  by 
huniminji-birds ;  in  five  cases  the  birds  reached 


134 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY, 


II   I 


the  drills,  and  hovering,  drank  sap  from  one  or 
more  of  them.  In  the  other  cases,  the  wood- 
peckers being  present,  the  hummers  were  driven 
away.  The  work  of  the  woodpeckers  seemed 
to  me,  armed  as  I  was  with  an  excellent  opera 
glass,  and  sitting  not  more  than  thirty  feet  from 
the  drills,  to  be  perfectly  plain  in  character. 
During  the  morning  the  female  drilled  four 
or  five  new  holes.  They  were  above  others  in 
perpendicular  series.  They  yielded  sap  freely. 
She  was  closely  attended  by  the  young  one,  who 
occasionally  swallowed  pieces  of  the  soft  bark  or 
cambium  layer  taken  from  the  bottom  of  the 
drills.  The  female  also  ate  some  of  it.  When 
not  drilling  or  resting,  the  female  dipped  sap 
from  the  holes  near  by.  The  male  drilled  no 
holes  but  dijjped  in  those  yielding  sap.  The 
dipping  was  done  regularly  and  rather  quickly, 
often  two  or  three  times  in  each  hole.  The  sap 
glistened  on  the  bill  as  it  was  withdrawn.  I 
could  sometimes  see  the  tongue  move.  The  bill 
was  directed  towards  the  lower,  inner  part  of  the 
drill,  which,  as  I  found  by  examination,  was  cut 
so  as  to  hold  the  sap.  I  looked  carefully  again 
and  again  to  try  to  find  insects  in  the  sap,  but 
none  were  there  although  numbers  crawled  upon 
the  bark.  Occasionally  the  birds  by  a  nervous 
motion  of  the  head  caught  an  insect.  There 
was  no  doubt  as  to  when  they  did  this,  either  on 


ii 


SAFSUCKEIiS  AND  THEIR  GUESTS. 


135 


the  bark  or  in  the  air,  for  in  swallowing  an  in- 
sect they  always  occupied  an  appreciable  time 
in  the  process. 

During  the  forenoon  I  nailed  to  the  tree  near 
the  drills  three  tiny  cups  of  birch  bark.  These 
I  filled  with  maple  syrup.  The  birds,  although 
not  disturbed  by  these  cups,  did  not  then  drink 
from  them.  In  the  course  of  the  morning  I  shot 
a  crow  and  two  blue  jays  from  where  I  sat, 
but  the  sapsuckers,  although  greatly  startled  by 
the  reports,  returned  quickly  after  their  first 
fright. 

The  day  following,  July  23,  I  was  on  duty  at 
the  tree  from  9  A.  m.  until  6.30  p.  M.  I  lay  on 
the  ground  concealed  by  the  spreading  branches 
of  a  beech  tree ;  my  watch  hung  from  a  twig  be- 
fore my  eyes,  while,  equipped  with  pencil  and 
paper,  I  took  notes  of  all  that  occurred  from 
minute  to  minute  throughout  the  day.  My 
record  runs  as  follows :  — 


Wednesday,  July  23,  9  a.  m.  Arrive,  climb  tree,  fill 
cups,  male  sapsucker  comes,  scolds,  goes  off.  No 
insects  in  the  sap. 

9.08.  Male  returns,  dips  from  six  holes. 

9.09.  Goes  out  on  dead  limb. 

9.11.  Hummer  takes  sap  from  two  holes.    I  could  hear 

no  humming.  Male  quiet. 
9.15.  Young  woodpecker  comes. 
9.17.  Goes  out  on  limb,  having  dipped  37  times  in  9 

holes.     Male  flies. 


:! 


136  FROM  DLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 

9.20.  Young  dips  39  times  from  13  holes. 
9.22.  Goes  out  on  limb. 

9.26.  Male  comes,  dips  15  times  from  9  holes. 

9.27.  Male   drills  a  new  hole.     Hummer  comes  and 
goes  ;  gets  nothing. 

9.28.  Young  flies  north. 

9.30.  Male  catches  insect  on  the  wing,  goes  on  limb. 

Catches  another  insect  on  wing. 
9.32.  Hear  a  hummer.     Male  drums. 
9.34.  Male  dips  from  four  hole.     Flies  west. 
9.44.  Male  returns,  dips  9  times,  7  holes,  goes  on  limb 

—  drums,  preens. 
9.47.  Hear  drumming. 

9.50.  Female  comes  from  north,  thf^y  chatter.    Male 
flies  north. 

9.51.  Female  dips,  goes  on  further  side  of  tree  and  drills. 

9.52.  Comes  to  cups,  tastes  syrup  in  one. 

9.53.  Flies  away,  east. 

10.01.  Male  comes  from  north,  dips  17  times,  12  holes. 
10.03.  Flies  north.     Hear  a  hummer. 

10.09.  Female  comes  from  east,  dips  in  drills  and  then 
from  cup  No.  1,  4  times. 

10.10.  Flies  east. 

10.37.  Female  comes. 

10.38.  Male  comes.    Female  dips  4  times  in  cup  No.  1 
and  goes  east. 

10.39.  Male  dips  in  5  holes,  taps  on  bark,  preens. 
10.42.  Goes  out  on  limb,  scratches  and  preens.     Seems 

to  have  lice. 
10.45.  Young  comes. 

10.47.  Male  goes  to  another  tree,  undrilled,  and  begins 
drilling.     Young  dips  in  40  drills. 

10.48.  Hummer  comes.     Young  drives  it  off. 

10.50.  Young  stands  on  cups  and  dips  in  a  few  holes 
many  times. 


SAPSUCKERS  AND   THEIR   GUESTS.        137 


)le3 


10.53.  Still  dipping  from  same  holes. 

10.57.  Still  dipping  at  intervals. 

10.58.  Male  comes,  nervous,  drills. 

10.59.  Young  tries  to  drill,  four  feet  above  drills. 
11.02.  Male  and  young  both  drilling. 

ll.OG.  Male  dips,  goes  out  on  limb. 
11.10.  Young  dips. 

11.15.  Male  dip.s,  goes  back  on  limb,  flies  east. 

11.16.  Young  dips  from  cup  No.  3  and  from  new  holes. 

11.17.  Young  digging  in  old  holes. 

11.19.  Young  dips  from  holes  and  dips  twice  in  cup  No.  3. 

11.20.  Goes  on  limb. 

11.22.  Dips  from  holes  just  made  by  male. 
11.25-11.30.  Still  dipping  at  intervals. 

11.32.  Male  comes  from  east.     Young  goes. 

11.33.  Male  drills. 

11.35.  Looks  at  cup.     Goes  out  ofi  liaib. 

11.37.  Catches  insect  on  wing,  brings  it  to  the  tree, 
crowds  it  into  hole,  and  eats  it  piecemeal. 

11.38.  Female  comes.  Goes  direct  to  cup  No.  1  and  dips 
4  times. 

11.40.  Female  dips  in  new  hole  and  drills  one. 

11.47.  New  hole  done,  after  6^  minutes  hard  chiseling. 

11.49.  She  catches  insect  on  the  wing,  puts  it  in  a  hole 
and  eats  it. 

11.50.  Hear  a  hummer. 
11.52.  Female  drills. 

11.55.  Dips,  goes  on  limb,  wipes  beak  and  preens. 

12  noon.     Female  completes  toilet,  dips  and  Hies  away. 

12.05-12.10.  I  examine  tree.  What  appeared  to  be 
drilling  new  holes  was  mainly  clearing  dry  wood 
from  existing  drills  and  running  several  drills 
into  one  large  one.  The  drills  are  always  lower 
at  the  back  next  the  wood  than  at  the  front,  thus 
forming  cups  for  the  sap  to  collect  in.    The  holes 


I 


138 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


begun  by  the  young  did  not  reach  the  cambium 
layer.     I  find  no  insectH  in  sap  or  syrup. 

12.23.  Female  comes  from  north,  dips,  pecks  and  preens. 

12.27.  On  limb  preening. 

12.30.  S*-ill  there.     I  go  home  for  dinner. 
2.30.  Return.     Young   in   tree.     I   climb,  he  flies.     I 
place  a  flame-colored  nasturtium  above  cup  No.  1. 

2.37.  Female  comes,  dips  in  new  holes. 

2.38.  Sees  nasturtium  —  petrified  by  astonishment. 

2.39.  Hitches  towards  flower,  and  touches  it  three  times, 
with  her  bill.     Satisfied,  dips. 

2.40.  Drills  and  later  does  nothing. 

2.48.  Catches  an  insect  on  the  bark  by  a  quick  pecking 

motion.     Goes  on  limb. 
2.51.  Young  comes,  dips.     No  notice  of  nasturtium. 

2.53.  Young  goes  on  limb.     Fenuile  comes  in  and  drills. 

2.54.  Young  comes  in  and  walks  over  nasturtium. 

2.55.  Female  drinks  from  both  cups,  bill  glistens. 

2.57.  Both  fly.     Young  seems  color  blind. 

2.58.  Male  comes,  dips,  goes  near  flower,  does  not  no- 
tice it  at  all. 

3.00.  Male  preens,  clinging  to  bark. 

3.01.  Female  returns.     Male  dips.     Both  preen. 
3.09.  Male  dips. 

3.13.  Male  hops  to  nasturtium  and  touches  it  with  bill 
three  times.     Looks  at  cup  but  dips  in  holes. 

3.15.  Nasturtium  blows  away. 

3.19.  Male  dips.  Female  drinks  17  times  from  cup 
No.  1  and  once  from  a  drill. 

3.22.  Male  sleepy,  dips  now  and  then.  I  peep,  mew, 
whistle,  hoot,  bark  and  talk,  but  no  sound  makes 
the  birds  do  more  than  move  their  heads. 

3.28.  Hummer  comes  ;  sees  male  and  retreats. 

3.29.  Male  dips. 

3.30.  Female  flies  east. 


m^ 


SAPSUCKERS  AND   THEIR  GUESTS. 


139 


3.33.  Male  dips  and  goes  on  limb. 

3.37.  Male  hangs  wings  and  opens  beak.     Sits  in  sun, 

3.4'2.  Preens,  conies  in  and  dips,  goes  back. 

3.47.  Young  conies,  dips  30  times.    Male  goes  on  limb. 

3.52.  Hummers  near,  male  comes  in,  very  lively,  dips. 

3.5G.  Male  drills.     Young  stays  close  to  him. 

3.58.  Young  goes  on  limb  and   hangs  his  wings  down 
each  side,  so  they  show  underneath  the  limb. 

3.59.  Male  goes  on  limb. 

4.00.  Male  conies  in  and  tries  to  catch  passing  flies. 
4.02.  Young  wakes  and  preens. 

4.04.  Male  begins  new  hole. 

4.05.  Male  goes  on  limb.     Young  dips. 

4.07.  Young  drinks  4  times  from  cup  No.  3. 

4.08.  Male  dips.     Young  goes  on  limb. 
4.10.  Male  goes  out. 

4.13.  Male  comes  in,  and  dips. 

4.17.  Young  Hies  in,  male  goes  out.     Young  dips  48 

times  from  drills. 
4.25.  Both  quiet. 

4.27.  Male  comes  in.     Young  dips. 
4.30.  Male  drills  new  hole  higher  up. 
4.35.  Young  flies  east. 

4.40.  Young  comes  from  east,  dips,  male  dips. 
4.50.  Male  and  young  dipping. 
4.55.  I  squeak,  hummer  flies  in  and  alights. 
4.59.  Female  has  been  gone  90  minutes. 
6.00.  Male  motionles.s.     Young  in  next  tree. 

5.06.  Male  dips,  and  flies  away  on  seeing  me. 

5.07.  Young  comes  in  and  dips  10  times  from  cup  No.  3. 

6.13.  After  dipping  in  holes  goes  to  cup  and  dips  5 
times. 

6.14.  Female  comes  from  south,  young  flies  south. 

5.15.  Female  touches  cup  3,  then  goes  to  cup  1  and  dips 
13  times. 


140 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


I 

liiiii 


5.16.  Goes  out  on  limb. 

6.20.  She  drills,  and  continues  to  drill  a  long  time. 

6.35.  Hummer  comes,  alights,  flies  away. 

6.36.  Young  comes  and  dips.     Female  goes. 

6.38.  Young  dips  7  times  in  cup  No.  3,  then  in  several 
new  holes. 

5.41.  Male  conies. 

5.44.  Young  dips  in  cup  No.  3,  7  times,  flies  off. 

5.46.  Male  rattles  around  over  cups  and  bark,  but  thus 
far  I  have  not  seen  him  drink  from  cups. 

5.49.  Young  returns,  dips  3  times  from  cup  3.  He  al- 
ways wipes  his  bill  in  a  drill  after  drinking  syrup. 

5.55.  Young  dips  again  in  cup  3  and  flies  south. 

5.5G.  Male  flies  in  and  clings  close  to  cup. 

G.OO.  Hummer  near. 

6.02.  Male  dipping  and  preening. 

6.08.  Young  comes  from  south. 

6.12.   Male  and  young  dipping. 

6.18.  A  hermit  thrush  alights  on  the  limb  from  which 
the  woodpeckers  always  take  flight.  Young  flijs 
at  him  twice  and  drives  him  away  and  out  of  the 
tree. 

6.30.  Young  still  dipping  ;  I  go  home. 


'■     \ 


On  July  24  instead  of  going  to  Orchard  No. 
1,  as  I  shall  call  that  already  described,  I  went 
first  to  another  half  a  mile  northeast  of  it,  where, 
in  August,  1889,  I  had  seen  sapsuckers  drilling 
a  canoe  birch,  and  humming-birds  and  a  downy 
woodpecker  apparently  sharing  in  the  profits  of 
the  tree. 

I  reached  Orchard  No.  2  at  6.45  A.  M.  The 
tree   in   use   last  year  was   nearly  dead.     Two 


^MF 


^^ 


8AFSUCKERS  AND   THEIR   GUESTS.        141 

neighboring  birches  showing  scars  of  earlier 
years  were  quite  dead.  All  stood  on  the  crest 
of  a  kame.  About  three  rods  along  the  ridge 
to  the  eastward,  a  red  oak  and  two  or  three 
canoe  bin^hes  were  in  use  by  the  birds.  Five 
sapsuckers,  including  a  male,  female  and  three 
young,  were  frolicking  and  dipping.  The  male 
was  somewhat  rough  with  the  young  birds.  I 
stayed  until  7.30.  Humming  birds  made  thir- 
teen visits  in  that  time  and  were  generally  al- 
lowed to  dip  freely.  A  black-and-white  creeping 
warbler  was  driven  from  the  tree.  A  red- 
eyed  vireo  was  not  disturbed  in  the  higher  foli- 
age. Three  separate  times  while  one  humming- 
bird was  dipping  another  came.  The  effect  was 
astonishing.  Volleys  of  squeaks  proceeded  from 
both  birds.  They  dropped  directly  downwards 
from  the  tree  about  twenty  feet,  and  when  close 
to  the  tops  of  bushes  and  brakes  began  to  go 
backwards  and  forwards  like  a  long  pendulum, 
the  trunk  of  the  tree  coming  opposite  the  lowest 
point  of  their  course,  and  the  arc  made  by  them 
measuring  about  forty  feet.  Their  humming 
and  squeaking  were  continuous.  At  the  end  of 
the  performance  only  one  bird  was  to  be  seen, 
and  he  quietly  perched  in  the  tree.  I  think 
this  oscillating  flight  was  made  five  or  six 
times  in  each  of  the  three  performances  which 
I  witnessed. 


•' 


142 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


>  I  i 


IP 


The  following  evening,  July  25, 1  visited  Or- 
chard No.  2  again.  One  sapsucker  and  two  hum- 
ming-birds were  at  work  dipping  between  7.20  and 
8  p.  M.  The  pendulum  act  was  not  performed. 
The  hummers  were  not  disturbed  by  the  wood- 
peckers. They  continued  to  dip  until  it  was  too 
dark  for  me  to  see  them,  although  I  could  hear 
their  wings. 

On  the  preceding  morning,  after  my  visit  to 
Orchard  No.  2,  I  spent  a  short  time  at  Orchard 
No.  1.  I  found  the  birch  bark  cups  empty.  I 
filled  them,  and  as  I  reached  the  ground  the  young 
woodpecker  came  and  began  dipping  from  cup 
No.  3.  He  dipped  ten  times,  then  poked  into  two 
drills  and  flew  away.  The  female  came  immedi- 
ately after,  dipped  in  a  few  drills,  saw  the  fresh 
syrup,  dipped  ten  times  in  cup  No.  1,  and  flew 
away.  That  day  and  the  26th  were  rainy.  On 
the  27tli  at  6.15  a.  m.  I  saw  a  male  hummer  work- 
ing on  evening  primrose  blossoms.  lie  ignored 
other  flowers.  I  reached  Orchard  No.  1  at  6.35. 
The  young  one  was  there.  I  filled  cup  No.  1, 
the  others  being  torn  or  warped.  A  hummer 
flew  almost  into  my  face  while  I  was  in  the  tree. 
About  twenty  new  drills  had  been  made  since  the 
23d,  all  being  higher  up  the  trunk  than  i)revious 
ones.  About  two  inches  in  height  had  been 
gained.  I  remained  on  the  watch  nearly  nine 
hours,  going  away  only  for  meals  and  a  brief  visit 


W»^is?5  Jm ' -lie' li;  JA-riSil.,^ 


~f^''^]\ 


8APSUCKERS  AND    THEIR   GUESTS. 


143 


;o  Orchard  No.  2.  During  the  nine  hours  the 
male  paid  ten  visits  to  the  tree,  the  female  four 
^nd  the  young  one  three.  Forty-one  visits  were 
made  by  humming-birds ;  in  several  instances 
two  were  in  the  tree  at  once.  The  tree  swarmed 
with  insects,  mainly  large  flies.  One  or  more 
butterflies  came.  Early  in  the  morning,  I  added 
brandy  and  sugar  to  the  maple  syrup  in  the  cup. 
The  humming-birds  with  one  exception  dipped 
only  in  the  drills.  In  one  case  a  humming-bird 
drank  for  sixty  seconds  (including  a  rest  of  ten 
seconds)  from  the  cup.  lie  then  flew  away. 
The  young  sapsucker  dipped  only  from  the  drills, 
the  female  dipped  thirty  times  or  more  from  the 
drills,  and  twenty-five  times  from  the  cup.  The 
male  dipped  fifty-four  times  from  the  drills  and 
worked  a  little  in  deepening  holes,  drank  sixty-six 
times  from  the  cup  and  caught  twenty  insects, 
some  on  the  wing,  some  on  the  edge  of  the  cup. 

I  noticed  with  surprise  that  the  humming-birds 
in  more  than  one  instance  took  sap  while  clinging 
to  the  bark  with  their  feet,  their  wings  being  at 
rest.  I  have  been  told  by  a  careful  observer  that 
they  cling  to  the  trumpet  flower  in  the  same  way 
while  crowding  themselves  into  its  mouth  to  draw 
its  sweets. 

My  notes  refer  again  and  again  to  the  spite- 
ful treatment  of  the  hummers  at  Orchard  No.  1. 
On  the  other  hand,  at  Orchard  No.  2  they  say, 


m 


144 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


4 


"  Male  and  young  one  dipping.  Hummer  comes 
in  and  dips  several  times  between  them  and  they 
offer  no  objection." 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  one  young  bird  had 
been  shot  from  the  family  at  Orchard  No.  1,  the 
tree  was  without  woodpeckers  only  about  one 
hour  out  of  the  nine  that  I  watched  it  on  July  27. 

On  the  28th,  I  arrived  at  Orchard  No.  1  at  7.28 
A.  M.  and  watched  it  for  two  hours.  On  my  ar- 
rival I  filled  one  cup  with  brandy,  sugar  and 
syrup,  and  another,  a  new  one,  with  pure  brandy, 
and  a  drop  or  two  of  the  mixture  on  top.  A 
humming-bird's  arrival  at  7.30  brought  the  male 
sapsucker  from  a  neighboring  tree.  The  hum- 
mer was  driven  away.  The  woodpecker  dipped 
several  times  and  then  tried  the  pure  brandy. 
He  shook  his  beak  and  hitched  away  from  the 
cup.  Then  he  went  out  on  the  limb  used  as  a 
regular  point  of  departure  and  flew  north,  as 
my  notes  say,  "  pointing  and  flying  as  though  for 
a  long  trip."  At  8.13,  a  male  hummer  drank 
forty  seconds  from  the  cup  containing  the  brandy 
and  syrup  mixture.  At  8.1G,  a  female  hummer 
drank  twenty  seconds  at  the  same  cup.  Both  ig- 
nored the  drills.  At  8.42,  a  female  hummer  while 
drinking  was  attacked  again  and  again  by  the 
wasps  and  bees  surrounding  the  tree,  and  com- 
pelled to  defend  herself.  At  9.05,  the  female 
woodpecker  arrived,  dipped  in  a  few  holes  and 


ytm 


8APSUCKERS  AND   THEIR   GUESTS.        145 

then  went  to  the  brandy  cup.  She  drank  six 
times,  then  went  out  on  the  limb  and  presently 
began  shaking  her  head  violently,  showering 
drops  from  her  beak  in  every  direction  until  she 
had  thrown  up  what  I  estimated  to  be  two  tea- 
spoonfuls  of  liquid.  She  flew  away  eastward,  but 
soon  returned  and  rem?ined  until  9.30,  when  she 
flew  north  "  as  for  a  long  trip." 

I  then  hurried  to  Orchard  No.  2  and  remained 
there  from  10.07  until  11.15.  On  some  of  the 
trees  at  this  orchard  a  thick  growth  of  small 
sucker  branches  was  conspicuous  just  below  the 
drills.  I  think  it  was  caused  by  them.  It  served 
as  a  screen  for  the  sapsuckers.  During  this 
hour  three  woodpeckers  were  at  work  dipping, 
and  occasionally  catching  some  of  the  numerous 
insects  of  which  the  air  was  full.  Seven  visits 
were  paid  by  humming-birds.  One  of  the  trees 
in  use  by  the  woodpeckers,  hummers  and  in- 
sects was  a  red  oak.  The  drills  in  it  were  very 
small  and  round.  At  11.15,  I  went  into  a  large 
swamp  to  the  east  of  Orchards  1  and  2  in  search 
of  fresh  evidence.  After  walking  a  quarter  of 
a  mile,  I  paused  and  hooted  like  a  barred  owl. 
A  young  sapsucker  promptly  appearetl,  and  a 
moment  later  a  humming-bird,  which  aliglited 
close  to  the  woodpecker.  Seeing  no  owl,  the 
humming-bird  flew  off  towards  the  point  from 
which  the  sapsucker  had  come.     I  followed  and 


11!)' 


146 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


\ 


found  Orcliarcl  No.  3,  consisting  mainly  of  trees 
girdled  long  ago  and  now  dead.  The  tree  in 
use  was  a  red  maple.  Its  drills  were  about 
twenty-five  feet  from  the  ground.  One  bird  was 
dipping;  two  more  came  soon  after.  After  a 
brief  stay  I  went  home  to  dinner.  Returning 
at  2.45,  I  stayed  until  4.15.  A  downy  wood- 
pecker passed  without  going  to  the  drills.  At 
3.35,  I  killed  two  young  woodpeckers  with  a 
single  charge  of  dust  shot.  A  few  moments 
later  a  humming-bird  alighted  in  one  of  the 
dead  maples.  At  4.10,  I  was  drawn  away  by 
the  hooting  of  a  barred  owl,  and  did  not  re- 
turn to  Orchard  No.  3  until  August  7,  when  I 
found  only  one  sapsucker  at  work,  a  young  one, 
which  I  shot.  I  do  not  think  that  I  found  the 
principal  trees  in  this  orchard. 

I  ended  my  observations  of  July  28  by  a  visit 
of  twenty-five  minutes  at  Orchard  No.  4,  which 
I  had  first  seen  three  years  before.  It  consisted 
of  a  large  number  of  dead  and  a  few  living  trees, 
which  stood  on  a  delta  formed  by  the  Chocorua 
River  at  its  point  of  union  with  Chocorua  Lake. 
The  part  of  the  orchard  in  use  was  a  birch,  from 
whose  root  rose  four  major  trunks  quickly  subdi- 
viding into  fifteen  minor  stems  each  rising  to  a 
height  of  over  thirty  feet.  All  of  these  fifteen 
trunks  were  dead  or  dying.  Only  seven  of  them 
bore  leaves.     I  reached  this  orchard  at  6.25  p.m., 


SAPSUCKERS  AND   THEIR   GUESTS.        147 


1 

e 
t 
I 

ia 

:\ 
u» 

n 
i- 
a 
11 
m 


and  finding  no  birds  in  sight  placed  Puffy  on  a 
stiunp  close  to  the  drills,  which  were  only  seven 
to  nine  feet  from  the  ground.  Instantly  a  hum- 
ming-bird appeared,  buzzing  and  squeaking,  and 
the  next  moment  a  female  sapsucker  came  into 
the  tree  scolding.  I  removed  Puffy  and  soon 
after  the  humming-bird  began  dipping,  giving  a 
squeak  each  time  he  dipped.  At  6.50,  the  hum- 
mer, again  discovering  Puffy,  flow  within  ten 
inches  of  his  eyes,  buzzed  indignantly  and  flew 
away. 

On  August  5  from  3  to  4  p.m.,  no  sapsuckers 
came  to  Orchard  No.  4  and  only  one  hummer. 
A  high  wind  was  blowing. 

On  August  7,  I  visited  Orchard  No.  1.  About 
twenty  new  holes  had  been  made  since  July  28, 
and  great  quantities  of  frothy  sap  were  wasting. 
The  sap  was  as  sweet  as  though  artificially  sweet- 
ened. I  saw  one  young  sapsucker  and  one  hum- 
ming-bird ;  neither  of  them  dipped.  The  wood- 
pecker caught  several  insects. 

On  August  8,  I  reached  Orchard  No.  4  at  6 
A.M.  At  6.03  a  hummer  came.  At  6.06  a 
young  sapsucker  came  and  began  dipping.  I 
had  with  me,  instead  of  one  of  my  barred  owls, 
one  of  three  young  screech  owls  which  had  been 
confided  to  my  care  for  the  season.  "  Scops  '* 
was  placed  in  a  conspicuous  position  in  the  heart 
of  the  orchard.      The  sapsucker  had  scarcely  be- 


148 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


ml 

m 


gun  dipping  when  he  saw  the  owl  and  raised  the 
alarm.  Over  thirty  birds  came,  including  two 
hummers.  By  6.30  the  noise  subsided,  and  the 
sapsucker,  who  had  not  left  the  tree  at  all,  re- 
sumed his  dipjDing.  A  male  hummer  was  also  dip- 
ping at  6.31.  At  6.42,  the  sapsucker  was  dipping 
within  seven  feet  of  my  head,  and  the  hummer  was 
perched  close  by.  At  6.47,  the  hummer  buzzed  in 
Scops'  face  and  then  perched  again.  At  6.52,  an- 
other hummer  came  and  both  flew  away  ;  at  6.54 
both  came  back,  but  went  again.  At  6.56  Scops, 
whose  wing  was  clipped,  jumped  nearly  six  feet 
at  the  young  sapsucker,  at  whom  he  had  been 
glaring  for  some  time.  The  woodpecker  flew 
with  a  loud  cry,  scolded  for  a  long  time  and  then 
disappeared.  I  nailed  a  birch  bark  cup  to  one 
of  the  stems,  and  while  doing  it  a  hummer  came 
and  looked  at  me.  Later  he  came  again,  looked 
at  the  cup  and  dipped  at  drills  close  above  it. 

I  spent  from  10  a.m.  until  12.34  at  Orchard 
No.  2,  for  the  purpose  of  shooting  all  sapsuckers 
seen  there.  I  found  last  year's  tree  again  in  use, 
and  those  in  use  July  24  and  25  temporarily 
abandoned.  From  10  to  10.48,  the  sapsuckers 
seen,  spent  all  their  time  catching  insects  on  the 
wing,  sometimes  flying  fifty  feet  for  them.  Hum- 
ming-birds were  numerous,  and,  as  I  had  no- 
ticed was  the  case  with  this  orchard,  were  un- 
molested even  when  dipping  within  a  foot  of  a 


SAPSUCKERS  AND   THEIR   GUESTS.        149 


sapsucker.  At  11.15,  I  fired  while  a  hummer 
and  young  sapsucker  were  both  dipping,  and 
killed  the  woodpecker.  At  11.47,  I  tried  again 
and  killed  a  sapsucker  and  male  hummer  with 
the  same  charge.  At  12.12,  a  female  hummer 
came  and  dipped  for  forty  seconds.  At  12.27, 
I  shot  another  young  sapsucker,  and  at  12.34 
a  fourth.  As  I  left  the  orchard,  a  female  hum- 
mer was  dipjung. 

On  August  10,  I  spent  from  5.30  p.  m.  until 
6.30  at  Orchard  No.  4.  A  young  sapsucker  and 
hummer  were  in  the  drilled  tree  during  the  en- 
tire hour.  Although  I  climbed  into  the  tree  to 
put  maple  syrup  in  the  cup,  the  woodpecker  did 
not  leave  the  branches.  Neither  bird  took  any 
syrup. 

On  August  13,  I  reached  Orchard  No.  2  at 
6.40  A.  M.  At  7.09,  a  hummer  buzzed  in  my 
face  so  near  that  I  was  startled  and  waved  her 
off.  At  7.15,  a  hummer  was  dipping  in  a  canoe 
birch  near  by.  At  7  17,  I  fired  at  her  but 
missed.  She  dipped  again  at  7.29.  At  7.32,  I 
fired  again  and  failed.  At  7.37,  she  was  dipping 
again  and  then  perched  near  by.  She  dipped 
again  at  7.45  and  7.49,  and  I  tried  a  third  shot 
which  was  successful.  At  7.58,  a  female  hum- 
mer was  dipping  in  the  same  spot.  At  8.07,  I 
left  without  having  seen  a  woodpecker  but  with 
the  certainty  that  more  than  a  single  pair  of 
hummers  used  Orchard  No.  2. 


' 


t' 


1 


150 


FliOM  BLOyflDON  TO  SMOKY. 


On  August  14  at  3  r.  m.,  humming-birds  were 
using  Orchard  No.  2,  but  the  supply  of  sap  was 
diminisliing  and  no  woodpeckers  were  to  be 
seen.  I  shot  away  a  small  limb  which  I  noticed 
the  humming-birds  perched  upon,  and  a  few 
moments  later  one  returned  and  flew  in  zigzag 
lines  near  the  spot,  searching  for  the  missing 
twig.  The  same  or  another  bird  repeated  the 
search  a  few  minutes  later.  At  4  P.  M.,  I  reached 
Orchard  No.  1,  which  seemed  deserted,  nothing 
coming  during  an  hour  and  a  half.  Great 
streams  of  frothy  sap  extended  down  the  bark 
to  the  ground  and  formed  a  moist  spot  on  the 
leaves  and  mould.  The  trees  smelled  sour  and 
the  lower  sap  tasted  sour.  I  climbed  to  the 
drills.  The  upper  holes  were  blowing  bubbles 
of  sap,  and  a  slow  current  was  flowing  from  them, 
readily  visible  to  the  eye.  Many  kinds  of  in- 
sects were  upon  the  trunk,  including  ants,  com- 
mon house-flies,  and  hornets.  One  of  the  last 
named  stung  me  without  other  provocation  than 
my  presence,  and  I  descended  rapidly  from  the 
tree.  By  a  mark  made  on  July  23,  I  was  able 
to  determine  that  in  three  weeks  the  drills  in 
this  red  maple  had  been  carried  eight  inches  up 
its  trunk. 

On  September  5,  I  paid  a  final  visit  for  the 
season  to  Orchard  No.  1.  There  were  no  birds 
present  between  2.30  and  3  p.  m.    But  little  sap 


8APSUCKERS  AND   THEIR   GUESTS. 


151 


was  flowing.  The  tree  looked  in  better  condi- 
tion than  in  July  or  August.  Great  numbers 
of  hornets  were  in  control  of  the  tree.  A  few 
butterflies  hovered  near,  but  were  driven  away 
by  the  quarrelsome  hornets. 

On  May  1,  1891,  I  took  advantage  of  a  brief 
trip  to  Chocorua  to  visit  Orchard  No.  1.  The 
sapsuckers  were  there  and  had  evidently  been  at 
work  several  days.  The  red  maple,  their  princi- 
pal tree,  was  covered  with  flowers  above  the  belt 
of  drills,  and  with  newly  opened  leaves  on  its 
lower  limbs.  The  female  was  dipping  at  a  series 
of  new  drills  which  had  been  opened  two  feet 
above  the  old  belt.  Forty-three  holes  had  been 
cut  on  the  trunk  and  nearly  as  many  more  on 
several  adjoining  limbs.  Sap  was  flowing  from 
the  upper  holes  only,  and  not  in  abundance.  It 
was  slightly  sweet.  The  male  came  to  the  tree 
once  during  my  stay  of  half  an  hour,  but  he 
spent  most  of  his  time  on  a  poplar  a  few  rods 
distant,  where  he  was  digging  his  family  man- 
sion. The  poplar  was  a  vigorous  tree,  about 
forty  feet  in  height.  The  hole  was  on  the  south- 
east side  of  the  trunk  a  little  more  than  twenty 
feet  from  the  ground.  It  seemed  to  be  already 
four  or  five  inches  deep.  The  birds  were  noisy, 
especially  so  when  the  female  went  to  inspect  the 
male's  digging,  and  when  the  male  came  for  a 
moment  to  the  drills.     Only  two  sapsuckers  ap- 


I 


i 


152 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


peared,  and  no  hurannng-birds  were  to  be  seen. 
There  were  practically  no  insects  to  be  found 
near  the  drills. 

During  July  and  August,  1890,  T  shot  in  all 
eight  sapsuckers  at  the  various  orchards.  I 
preserved  tJieir  stomachs,  which  were  well  filled 
with  insects.  Some  of  these  stomachs  were 
examined  l^y  Professor  Ilagen,  who  wrote  to  mo 
on  Au'rust  21st  as  follows  :  — 

"■  The  woodpecker  has  hashed  his  food  so 
fine,  that  it  is  beyond  my  power  or  knowledge 
to  determine  accurately  the  comjiosition  of  this 
bug-hash." 

Mr.  Samuel  II.  Scudder  was  able  to  speak 
with  more  confidence  of  the  stomachs  which  I 
sent  to  him.  Under  date  of  December  19,  he 
said :  "  The  insects  in  the  different  stomachs 
are  in  all  cases  almost  exclusively  composed  of 
the  harder  chitinous  parts  of  ants.  In  a  cursory 
examination  I  find  little  else,  though  one  or  two 
beetles  are  represented  and  No.  4  must  have  swal- 
lowed an  entire  wasp  of  the  largest  size,  his  head 
and  wings  attesting  thereto.  If  the  birds  were 
very  different  in  habit,  or  presumably  in  food, 
a  comparison  of  the  kinds  of  ants  might  lead  to 
the  detection  of  some  peculiarities.  A  number 
of  species  are  represented." 

It  is  worthy  of  note  that  the  structure  of  the 
tongue  of  this  species  is  somewhat  unlike  that  of 


SAPSUCKKliS  AND    r/IKlli   GUh'STS. 


153 


the  tongues  of  other  woodpeckers.  In  form  it 
is  not  adapted  to  use  as  a  dart  for  securing 
insects,  and  its  fringed  edges  have  suggested  to 
biologists  who  were  not  observers  of  the  bird's 
habits  that  sap  might,  as  in  the  eases  of  species 
with  simihir  apparatus,  form  an  important  por- 
tion of  its  food.  The  following  extract  from 
a  letter  written  to  me  by  Mr.  W.  F.  Ganong, 
Instructor  in  Botany  at  Harvard  University, 
gives  a  clear  history  of  the  progress  of  sap  in  its 
ascent  and  descent. 

"  It  is  now  thought  by  botanists  that  the  elab- 
orated sap  from  the  leaves  is  transferred  down 
the  stem  through  the  soft  bast  cells  of  the  inner 
bark,  just  outside  of  the  cambium  layer.  It 
hence  passes  to  the  medullary  rays,  where  it  is 
stored  up  to  last  over  the  winter  in  the  form  of 
starch  chiefly.'  Some  of  it  is  stored  also  in  the 
wood  cells  of  the  young  wood  —  but  none  I 
believe  in  the  ducts  or  fibres  or  main  masses  of 
the  wood  itself.  In  the  latter  there  is  a  current 
of  crude  sap  from  the  roots  flowing  up,  but  I 
do  not  think  any  botanist  thinks  that  the  elabo- 
rated sap  flows  down  by  the  same  path.  Hence 
if  the  woodpecker  in  July  or  August  penetrates 
the  wood^  he  would  get  only  crude  sap  from  the 
ordinary  wood  tissue,  but  he  might  get  elaborated 
sap  from  the  medullary  rays  or  some  of  the 
smaller  wood  cells  —  much  more  of  the  former 


;, 


^' 


154 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


I   'J 


(i.  e.  imelaborated)  than  of  the  latter  (i.  e.  elab- 
orated), I  should  say.  If  he  penetrates  to  the 
cambium  only  he  would  get  elaborated  sap 
(which  is  being  transformed  into  tissue),  and  if 
he  penetrated  the  soft  inner  bark  only  he  cer- 
tainly would  get  elaborated  sap  flowing  down- 
ward, and  probably  that  only.  If  it  is  elaborated 
sap  he  wants,  he  would  do  much  better  to  go 
no  further  than  the  inner  bark  and  cambimn. 
The  medullary  rays  are  so  small  in  proportion 
to  the  size  of  a  woodpecker's  bill  and  tongue 
that  he  would  receive  but  poor  wages  for  his 
labor  in  penetrating  them.  Of  course  in  spring 
before  the  leaves  are  fully  out,  the  sap  is  very 
rich  as  it  flows  up,  both  in  starchy  and  rJbumi- 
noid  matters,  and  then  it  would  be  worth  working 
for.  But  as  late  as  July  and  August,  the  upward 
flowing  sap,  while  it  contains  traces  of  these  nutri- 
tious substances,  must  be  very  poor  in  them. 

"  I  never  thought  of  the  question  before,  be- 
cause I  did  not  know  that  woodpeckers  bored 
for  sap.  I  always  supposed  it  was  insects  and 
their  larvae  they  were  after." 


m 


SUMMARY. 

From  these  observations  I  draw  the  follow- 
ing conclusions :  that  the  yellow-breasted  wood- 
pecker is  in  the  habit  for  successive  years  of 
drilling   the   canoe   birch,  red  maple,  red  oak, 


f'ff 


SAPSUCKERS  AND   THEIR   GUESTS. 


155 


white  ash  and  probably  other  trees  for  the  pur- 
pose of  taking  from  them  the  elaborated  sap 
and  in  some  cases  parts  of  the  cambium  layer ; 
that  the  birds  consume  the  sap  in  large  quan- 
tities for  its  own  sake  and  not  for  insect  matter 
which  sucL  sap  may  chance  occasionally  to  con- 
tain ;  that  the  sap  attracts  many  insects  of  various 
species,  a  few  of  which  form  a  considerable  part 
of  ^he  food  of  this  bird,  but  whose  capture  does 
not  occupy  its  time  to  anything  like  the  extent 
to  which  sap  drinking  occupies  it ;  that  different 
families  of  these  woodpeckers  occupy  different 
"  orchards,"  such  families  consisting  of  a  male, 
female,  and  from  one  to  four  or  five  young  birds ; 
that  the  "orchards"  consist  of  several  trees 
usually  only  a  few  rods  apart,  and  that  these 
trees  are  regularly  and  constantly  visited  from 
sunrise  until  long  after  sunset,  not  only  by  the 
woodpeckers  themselves,  but  by  numerous  para- 
sitical humming-birds,  which  are  sometimes  un- 
molested, but  probably  quite  as  often  repelled ; 
that  the  forest  trees  attacked  by  them  generally 
die,  possibly  in  the  second  or  third  year  of  use ; 
that  the  total  damage  done  by  them  is  too  in- 
significant to  justify  their  persecution  in  well- 
wooded  regions. 


YOUNG  SAPSUCKERS  IN  CAPTIVITY. 

I  SPENT  much  time  during  the  summer  of 
1890  in  watching  yellow-breasted  woodpeckers 
at  work  in  their  "  orchards  "  near  Mt.  Cho- 
corua,  N.  H.  From  my  observations  I  drew  the 
following  conclusions,  that  "  the  yellow-breasted 
woodp':;cker  is  in  the  habit  ...  of  drilling  .  .  . 
trees  for  the  purpose  of  taking  from  them  the 
elaborated  sap,  and  in  some  cases  part  of  the 
cambium  layer ;  that  the  birds  consume  the  sap 
m  large  quantities  for  its  own  sake  and  not  for 
insect  matter  which  such  sap  may  chance  occa- 
sionally to  contain ;  that  the  sap  attracts  many 
insects  of  various  species,  a  few  of  which  form  a 
considerable  part  of  the  food  of  this  bird." 

These  conclusions  differed  so  radically  from 
opinions  held  by  many  ornithologists  that  some 
persons,  who  either  doubted  the  sufficiency  and 
unimaginativeness  of  my  observations,  or  who 
read  my  conclusions  without  scrutinizing  my  state- 
ments of  fact,  were  unwilling  to  adirlt  that  I 
had  proved  the  yellow-breasted  woodpecker  to 
be  a  sap-drinker.  In  order  to  present  additional 
and  different  evidence  in  the  case,  I  determined 


;-3Wgs«W'«sffi' 


IM 


mm 


a 


YOUNG  SAPSCCKEIiS  IN  CAPTIVITY.      157 

to  secure  several  living  sapsuckers,  to  cut  them 
off  as  completely  as  might  be  practicable  from 
insect  food,  to  feed  them  if  possible  upon  con- 
centrated maple  sap,  and  to  see  whether  a  diet 
of  that  kind  would  sustain  life.  It  was  possible 
that  they  might  refuse  to  eat  anything,  that  they 
might  eat  the  offered  food  but  die  in  a  few  days, 
that  they  might  live  for  a  time  but  show  distress 
and  inability  to  digest  the  food.  On  the  other 
hand  it  was  possible  that  they  might  take  kindly 
to  the  diet,  thrive  upon  maple  syrup,  and  live  for 
weeks,  perhaps  months,  in  a  manifestly  healthy 
condition.  I  had  confidence  enough  in  my  pre- 
vious observations  to  believe  that  the  birds  would 
relish  syrup,  and  would  live  upon  it  for  a  suffi- 
ciently long  time  to  induce  those  who  still  consid- 
ered the  birds  insect  eaters  only,  to  admit  that  a 
contrary  presumption  had  been  raised. 

It  was  first  necessary  to  secure  the  birds.  Hav- 
ing failed,  in  1890,  to  catch  old  birds  by  making 
them  tipsy,  I  decided  to  secure  a  nestf  ul  of  young 
birds  before  they  took  to  the  wing.  Searching  the 
forest  near  Orcharo  No.  1, 1  found,  on  July  1,  a 
nest  filled  with  noisy  fledglings  whose  squealing 
sounded  afar  in  the  otherwise  silent  woods.  The 
hole  was  on  the  south  side  of  a  living  poplar,  about 
twenty  feet  from  the  ground.  Two  old  holes 
scarred  the  trunk.  The  parent  birds  came  fre- 
quently to  the  tree,  and  their  arrival  was  always 


ff 


158 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


' 


;i 


i  i 


1* 


greeted  by  more  vigorous  crying  from  the  young. 
On  the  6th,  I  visited  the  nest  again  and  found 
both  old  birds  feeding  the  young,  which  were 
now  much  nearer  the  mouth  of  the  hole.  The 
old  birds  scolded  me  on  my  approach,  and  the 
young  remained  silent  for  a  long  time  after 
hearing  the  warning  notes  of  their  parents. 

On  Tuesday,  July  7,  at  noon,  I  raided  the  nest. 
The  poplar  was  felled  so  that  its  top  caught  in  a 
tree  near  by,  preventing  any  shock  to  the  young 
birds.  In  spite  of  the  resounding  blows  of  the 
axe,  the  old  birds  continued  to  come  to  the  nest, 
and  in  the  intervals  of  chopping  they  fed  the 
young.  Moisture  glistened  on  their  bills,  and  I 
was  not  sure  that  they  brought  insects  in  any 
instance.  One  young  bird  flew  before  the  tree 
fell,  a  second  took  wing  as  the  crash  came,  but 
the  third  remained  in  the  nest  until  taken  out  by 
hand.  I  named  them  Number  One,  Number  Two 
and  Number  Three,  corresponding  to  the  order 
of  their  entry  into  active  life.  Their  coloring 
varied  sufficiently  for  me  to  recognize  each  with 
certainty  after  his  transfer  to  a  cage,  and  as  weeks 
passed  by  they  became  more  and  more  dissimilar 
both  in  coloring  and  conduct. 

Their  cage  was  an  oblong  pine  box  containing 
about  three  cubic  feet.  Its  floor  was  covered  with 
sawdust,  its  face  was  closed  by  fine  wire  mosquito 
netting,  and  apple  and  alder  branches  were  ar- 


YOUNG  SAPSUCKERS  IN  CAPTIVITY.      159 


ranged  for  perpendicular  and  horizontal  perches. 
A  sliding  door  allowed  me  to  handle  the  birds 
when  necessary.  During  the  afternoon  of  the 
day  of  their  capture  I  fed  each  bird  four  times 
with  sugar  and  water.  Holding  each  little  crea- 
ture in  my  left  hand  I  slid  the  tip  of  a  small  quill 
toothpick  between  its  mandibles,  when  it  quickly 
drank  the  few  drops  of  liquid  held  in  the  half- 
filled  quill.  The  second  time  I  did  this  the  bird 
opened  its  beak  willingly.  By  the  fourth  lesson 
the  rapid  use  of  the  long  and  nervous  tongue  in 
draining  the  quill  of  every  particle  of  moisture 
showed  that  the  quill  was  a  satisfactory  substitute 
for  the  parent's  bill. 

At  5  A.M.  on  July  8,  the  young  sapsuckers  be- 
gan a  lively  "  rat-tat,  tat-ta-ta,  tat-tat"  on  the 
resounding  sides  of  their  box.  They  were  un- 
mistakably hungry  when,  an  hour  or  two  later,  I 
presented  the  point  of  the  quill  at  a  hole  in  the 
wire  netting.  One  bird  after  another  drank  the 
diluted  maple  syrup  with  which  I  filled  the  tube. 
I  repeated  this  process  at  intervals  of  about  half 
an  hour  until  evening,  the  birds  becoming  more 
and  more  expert  in  draining  the  quill  and  more 
and  more  prompt  in  responding  to  my  offers  of 
nourishment.  Number  One  was  the  most  rest- 
less and  aggressive  ;  Number  Three,  the  slowest 
in  feeding,  and  the  least  hungry.  It  was  also 
the  dullest  in  coloring.     On  the  9th,  the  birds 


'r  U/ 


Hi 


1 


I 


M 


160 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


did  not  begin  to  stir  until  about  7  o'clock,  their 
cage  having  been  darkened  so  as  to  prolong  their 
slumber.  On  my  presenting  the  quill  all  three 
tried  to  drink  at  once,  and  Number  One  was  very 
rough  with  the  others,  striking  them  sharply  with 
his  beak.  His  violence  led  me  to  add  a  second 
room  to  the  cage,  into  which  the  others  could 
withdraw  to  escape  him.  I  placed  it  directly 
above  the  other,  with  a  round  hole  in  the  floor 
opposite  a  similar  opening  in  the  top  of  the  first 
cage.  None  of  the  birds  noticed  the  hole,  either 
from  below  or  from  above,  when  put  in  the  upper 
room.  I  placed  cups  of  birch  bark  and  wooden 
troughs  filled  with  syrup  in  various  parts  of  both 
cages,  but  the  birds  did  not  go  to  them.  They 
took  more  syrup  than  on  the  8th,  drinking  a 
greater  number  of  times  and  more  at  each  time. 
Towards  evening,  I  exchanged  the  quill  for  a 
slender  spout  of  birch  bark  through  which  I  let 
the  syrup  ooze.  They  drank  from  the  spout, 
from  the  netting  down  which  drops  coursed,  and 
from  the  wood  upon  which  the  drojDS  fell.  Num- 
ber One  made  his  first  attempt  to  catch  a  fly  on 
the  netting,  but  failed. 

During  more  than  half  the  day  the  birds  were 
in  motion,  flying  from  one  side  of  the  cage  to  the 
other,  hitching  up  and  down  the  netting  or  the 
perpendicular  perches,  and  pounding  on  the  net- 
ting, boards  and  perches.     Twice  they  gave  the 


YOUNG  SAPSUCKERS   IN  CAPTIVITY.      IGl 


squealing  note  of  alarm  so  characteristic  of  the 
wild  sapsucker.  At  night  I  looked  to  see  how 
they  slept.  They  were  side  by  side,  hanging 
erect  upon  the  back  wall  of  the  cage,  with  their 
heads  tucked  under  their  wings.  One  by  one 
they  waked,  and  turned  with  sleepy  surprise  to 
look  at  the  lamplight  glaring  at  the  mouth  of 
their  cage. 

On  July  10, 1  made  serious  efforts  to  teach  the 
birds  to  feed  themselves.  Catching  them  at  in- 
tervals, I  dipped  their  bills  into  the  syrup  in 
their  cups,  forcing  them  to  drink.  By  9.30  a.  m. 
Number  One  had  learned  his  lesson.  Two  hours 
later  Number  Two  drank  voluntarily,  and  a  little 
after  one  o'clock  the  feeble  and  timid  Number 
Three  followed  suit.  Early  in  the  afternoon, 
Three  seemed  so  exhausted  by  the  blows  show- 
ered upon  her  by  One  and  Two,  that  I  thouglit 
she  was  going  to  die.  I  took  her  out  and  allowed 
her  to  perch  upon  the  top  of  the  cage.  Suddenly 
she  revived,  slipped  through  my  hand,  flew  the 
length  of  the  open  barn,  out  into  the  trees  be- 
yond, and  was  gone.  After  searching  for  her 
for  over  an  hour,  I  gave  her  up  as  lost. 

At  8  A.  M.  the  next  day  I  heard  a  sapsucker 
squeal  near  the  house,  and  running  out  found 
Three  sitting  on  top  of  a  ^dothes-line  post.  She 
looked  bright  and  knowing,  but  did  not  offer  to 
fly,  even  when  I  extended  my  hand  to  catch  her. 


162 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


MIm 


1 8 


m 


, 

1 

i 

- 

1 

1 

i 

: 

Clasping  her  quickly,  I  carried  her  back  to  the 
cage.  She  was  very  hungry,  and  went  at  once 
to  a  cup  and  drank  long  and  often.  Her  brief 
outing  had  given  her  courage  to  stand  up  against 
the  attacks  of  the  others,  and  I  had  no  further 
anxiety  for  her  health.  I  filled  their  cups  at  8 
A.  M.,  1  P.  M.,  4  p.  M.,  and  at  dark,  — the  last  as 
a  precaution  against  unseasonable  tapping  in  the 
morning. 

During  the  next  few  days  I  filled  the  cups 
several  times  a  day,  and  the  birds  drank  freely, 
and  seemed  happy  and  perfectly  healthy.  On 
July  17,  being  satisfied  that  the  birds  never 
would  learn  to  go  up  and  down  between  the 
upper  and  lower  cages,  I  removed  the  upper  cage 
and  placed  it  on  the  floor  beside  the  lower  one, 
opening  a  door  between  the  two  so  that  the  birds 
could  hop  through  from  one  to  the  other  on  the 
same  level.  They  did  this  at  once.  I  then  added 
a  third  room  which  could  be  entered  by  a  door  in 
its  side,  an4  found  that  the  birds  quickly  availed 
themselves  of  the  chance  to  be  alone  for  a  part 
of  each  day. 

One  warm  day  I  sprinkled  the  birds  with 
water.  They  were  greatly  astonished,  but  at 
once  surprised  me  as  much  as  I  had  them,  for 
they  flung  themselves  upon  the  floor  and  went 
through  all  the  head,  wing,  and  feather  motions 
of  a  bath,  scattering  about  chips  and  sawdust  in 


mm 


YOUNG  SAPSUCKERS  IN  CAPTIVITY.      163 

a  most  energetic  way.  It  was  their  first  acquaint- 
ance with  water.  I  at  once  supplied  them  with 
a  large  dish  of  water,  in  which  they  bathed 
occasionally  during  the  summer,  —  usually,  it 
seemed  to  me,  towards  evening,  and  when  no 
one  was  near. 

The  smell  of  maple  syrup  which  pervaded 
their  cage  of  course  attracted  insects,  which 
crawled  up  and  down  the  outside  of  the  wire  net- 
ting, occasionally  finding  a  crack  in  the  cage  and 
entering.  The  young  birds  were  always  on  the 
alert  to  catch  one  of  these  intruders,  and  made  a 
great  fuss  eating  it,  —  squealing,  and  crowding 
into  a  corner  to  hold  it  securely  between  their 
breasts  and  the  boards,  until  they  could  swallow 
it  in  just  the  right  way.  The  number  of  Insects 
caught  by  them  in  this  way  was  small,  and  I  do 
not  think  amounted  at  any  time  to  ten  per  cent 
of  their  food. 

Within  a  week  after  the  birds'  capture,  I  felt 
sure  that  Number  Two  was  a  male,  because  red 
feathers  appeared  on  his  throat.  I  surmised 
that  Number  Three  was  a  female,  partly  on  ac- 
count of  her  more  subdued  coloring  and  partly 
from  her  gentleness.  Number  One  bullied  both 
Two  and  Three  and  was  more  noisy  than  they. 
By  July  20,  I  had  reduced  the  number  of  their 
syrup  cups  to  one  —  a  large  earthen  saucer 
which  I  filled  once  a  day,  s'^metimes  twice.     If 


ssasasBMi 


1G4 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


' 


%\" 


I  allowed  the  saucer  to  become  dry,  the  wood- 
peckers drummed  more  and  more  vigorously  un- 
til I  supplied  their  needs.  Sometimes  all  three 
birds  would  drink  at  once.  They  were  astir  by 
6.30  A.  M.,  and  still  noisy  at  8  P.  M.  On  July 
20,  my  notes  say,  "  They  are  perfectly  healthy 
and  happy." 

About  noon  on  July  23,  the  door  of  the  wood- 
peckers' cage  was  opened  by  mistake,  and  not 
long  after,  I  discovered  ^'  ^  Three  had  escaped 
for  a  second  time.     I  r  ed  for  her  in  vain. 

The  next  day  rain  feil  n-  torrents  all  the  fore- 
About  one  o'clock,  the  cry  of  a  sapsucker 


noon. 


was  heard  throujjh  the  closed  windows  of  the 
house,  and  Three  was  discovered  clinging  to  the 
piazza  railing  just  in  front  of  my  study  window. 
She  was  wet  and  dismal.  I  tried  to  catch  her 
with  my  hand,  but  she  flew  to  the  nearest  tree 
trunk,  where  I  secured  her  by  throwing  a  piece 
of  soft  mosquito  netting  over  her.  The  moment 
I  placed  her  in  the  cage  she  fastened  herself 
beside  the  cup  and  drank  many  times.  After 
satisfying  her  hunger,  she  retired  to  the  darkest 
corner  of  the  cage  to  dry  and  doze.  The  other 
birds  paid  no  attention  to  her. 

On  July  25,  two  downy  woodpeckers  were 
working  in  my  orchard.  Taking  a  trout  rod  and 
line,  I  made  a  small  slip-noose  at  the  end  of  the 
tip  joint  and  poked  it  into  the  tree  where  one  of 


YOUNG  S APS UC KERB  IN  CAPTJVITT.     165 

the  woodpeckers  was  inspecting  the  bark.  He 
watched  tlie  rod  and  seemed  puzzled  by  it,  but 
did  not  fly.  Slowly  lowering  the  noose  I  let  it 
settle  around  his  neck,  and  then  by  a  slight  jerk 
drew  it  tight.  He  flew  in  small  circles  round 
and  round  the  tip  of  the  rod,  held  by  the  noose, 
and  slightly  choked  by  it.  A  minute  later,  freed 
from  the  line,  he  was  in  the  sapsucker's  cage. 

He  was  a  yomig  bird,  like  the  sapsuckers,  and 
I  supposed  that  the  latter  would  not  notice  that 
he  was  not  one  of  their  own  family.  I  thought 
it  possible  that  he  might  follow  their  example 
and  drink  syrup  from  the  cups,  for  I  had  once 
seen  a  downy  woodpecker  dipping  at  one  of  the 
sapsucker's  "  orchards."  Unhappily,  however, 
the  stranger  was  not  welcomed  kindly,  and  as  I 
was  called  away  tor  the  day,  he  had  no  defender. 
The  sapsuckers  pursued  him  from  one  corner  of 
their  cage  to  another,  striking  him  fierce  blows 
on  his  head  and  over  his  eyes,  until  he  fell  to  the 
floor  exhausted.  Reviving,  he  again  attracted 
their  notice  and  attack,  but  his  second  fall  was 
his  last. 

About  August  1,  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  sap- 
suckers were  unusually  restless ;  they  whined 
and  scolded  a  great  deal  and  went  from  room  to 
room  incessantly.  I  think  that  at  this  season 
the  wild  birds  begin  to  frequent  their  "  orchards  " 
less  regularly  than  in  May,  June,  and  July.    The 


166 


FROM  BLOMIDON   TO  SMOKY. 


captives  tapped  a  great  deal,  and  I  gave  them 
a  variety  of  things  to  play  upon,  as,  for  example, 
a  sweet-toned  glass  tumbler,  thin  sheets  of  zinc, 
and  resonant  i)ieces  of  wood  arranged  to  give 
out  -""lious  tones.  They  tested  these  things,  but 
seemed  to  prefer  the  sides  of  their  cage,  espe- 
cially portions  walled  with  clapboards,  which 
yielded  a  great  volimie  of  sound  to  their  blows. 
I  spent  many  hours  in  noting  down  the  number 
and  order  of  their  taps,  in  order  to  see  whether 
they  constituted  distinct  signals.  At  first  it 
seemed  to  me  that  Number  One  liked  to  tap  in 
twos  and  fours,  that  Number  Three  was  more 
apt  to  make  threes,  or  threes  and  fives,  than 
other  combinations,  and  that  Number  Two 
mingled  fives  and  twos.  The  longer  I  listened, 
the  more  combinations  I  found  them  making, 
and  at  last  I  decided  that  with  these  birds  it  was 

mere  chance  whether  they  said or 

or They  seemed  to  pay  no  attention  to 

each  other's  performances,  and  to  mean  nothing 
by  their  own  tappings.  If  they  tapped  at  all,  it 
was  necessary  to  make  some  number  of  taps  and 
to  space  those  taps  in  some  particular  way.  If 
in  a  large  number  of  such  series,  ones,  twos, 
threes,  fours  and  fives  came  equally  freely  and 
frequently  —  as  they  seemed  to  —  there  ap- 
peared to  be  no  ground  for  imagining  that  the 
different  combinations  indicated  different  feel- 


■mi 


YOUNG  8APSUCKERS  IN  CAPTIVITY.     1G7 


il- 


ings  or  impulses.  Nevertheless,  I  tliink  the  old 
birds  at  Orchard  No.  1  during  July,  1890,  called 
each  other  by  tapping,  and  I  do  not  feel  at  all 
sure  that  closer  study  than  mine  might  not  work 
out  a  sapsucker  code. 

On  August  9,  I  noted  that  the  birds  were  "  aa 
noisy  as  a  boiler  factory, "  and  that  One  and 
Three  were  showing  reddish  coloring  on  their 
heads.  Three,  I  speak  of  as  "  gentle  and  refined," 
but  One  is  constantly  alluded  to  as  rough,  noisy, 
and  restless.  I  tested  their  color  sense  by  pla- 
cing some  flaming  nasturtiums  in  the  front  of 
their  cage.  They  did  not  even  look  at  them,  but 
trampled  back  and  forth  over  them  vmtil  the 
flowers  fell. 

On  August  13,  a  very  warm  day,  I  saw  one 
of  the  sapsuckers  bathing  at  7.30  P.  M.,  when  it 
was  nearly  dark  in  the  cage.  On  the  14th  —  a 
rainy  day  —  one  of  them  bathed  about  6  p.  M. 
When  the  sun  fell  upon  their  cage  in  an  after- 
noon, the  birds  often  sought  the  sunlight,  and, 
standing  in  it,  drooped  their  wings  and  opened 
their  mouths  as  though  suffering.  They  could 
readily  have  avoided  its  heat. 

On  August  IT,  I  was  away  all  day,  and  the 
sapsuckers'  syrup  dish  became  dry.  Early  on 
the  18th,  the  birds  began  pounding  so  furiously, 
that,  as  my  notes  say,  "  they  could  be  heard  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  away."     When  I  filled  their 


■■f' 


: 


1C8 


Fii!OM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


dish  they  crowded  around  it,  and  all  three  drank 
at  once.  They  consumed  more  than  a  tablespoon- 
ful  of  the  diluted  syrup  between  7  and  11  A.  M. 
Ordinarily  they  disposed  of  eight  teaspoonfuls 
each  during  the  twenty-four  hours.  Part  of  this 
evaporated,  and  part  was  probably  secured  by 
black  ants  which  visited  the  cage  by  night.  On 
August  25,  I  did  not  give  the  young  woodpeck- 
ers any  syrup  until  late  in  the  day.  Then  I  of- 
fered syrup  and  insects  at  the  same  time.  They 
ignored  the  insects  and  drank  long  and  often  of 
the  liquid.  Later  they  ate  the  insects.  I  kept 
a  dish  of  water  i :  their  cage  all  the  time,  but 
they  were  seldom  seen  to  drink  from  it. 

On  September  4,  I  placed  the  woodpeckers' 
cage  in  a  finished  room  in  the  barn  and  opened 
their  door  to  see  what  they  would  do  with  lim- 
ited liberty.  Number  Three  sho-ved  the  effects 
of  former  freedom  by  coming  first  to  the  door- 
way and  perching  in  it.  After  a  moment,  One 
flew  out  past  her  and  bumped  against  the  win- 
dow pane.  Ten  minutes  elapsed  before  Two 
came  out.  Then  they  flew  back  and  forth  from 
window  to  looking-glass,  curtains  to  woodwork. 
I  handled  them  freely,  and  they  seemed  to  have 
no  feeling  of  fear.  They  clung  to  my  fingers, 
and  perched  upon  my  shoulders.  All  the  inte- 
rior finish  interested  them,  and  they  hammerijd 
wood  and    glass,    paint  and  plaster  with  \ehe 


inte- 
ennl 
die- 


YOUNG  SAPSUCKERS  IN  CAPTIVITY.      169 

mence.  One  of  them  hopped  back  and  forth  over 
the  board  floor,  striking  it  now  and  then  as  if  it 
had  been  a  great  log,  prostrate.  Three  caught 
a  few  of  the  many  flies  in  the  room,  but  showed 
no  eagerness  over  them.  The  others  scarcely 
tried  to  catch  them.  That  night  they  slej)t  in 
separate  corners.  In  the  nigl  *;  I  lit  a  candle 
and  looked  at  them.  They  awoke,  squealed,  and 
Three  ime  to  the  syrup  and  dipped  twelve 
times.  The  red  on  her  head  seemed  brighter 
day  by  day.  I  also  noted  that  Two  was  grow- 
ing more  yellow  below.  On  September  6,  I 
noticed  that  One  and  Three  were  together  while 
Two  remained  much  alone.  He  seemed  to  be 
movHing.  During  the  next  fortnight  I  let  the 
birds  out  once  or  twice  each  day  and  watched 
them  closely.  Thret  was  the  only  one  which 
seemed  to  care  much  about  catching  house  flies, 
and  she  secured  very  few.  Black  ants  visited 
the  cage  at  night,  and  occasionally  I  heard  the 
birds  moving  about  a  great  deal,  although  their 
cage  was  as  dark  as  it  could  well  be  made.  By 
September  11,  Three  had  transferred  her  affec- 
tions fi'om  One  to  Two.  The  latter's  plumage 
had  l>y  that  time  become  quite  brilliant ;  the 
yellow  and  blp-ik  below,  and  the  red  on  head  and 
throat,  makir.g  him  a  decidedly  distinguished 
looking  bird.  He  niade  up  for  all  Number  One's 
earlier    bullying    and  browbeating  by  scolding 


j'ii'.'s.iT.    ,UJ*ll,i 


"JfS^^SS^^^S^ 


170 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


him  and  driving  him  from  perch  to  perch. 
When  free  in  the  room,  Two  and  Three  spent 
most  of  their  time  upon  a  great  horizontal 
timber,  a  portion  of  the  framework  of  the  barn, 
which  ran  through  the  upper  part  of  the  room. 
It  had  been  rough-hewn  by  the  sturdy  hands 
which  had  framed  the  barn  many  a  long  year 
before,  and  patches  of  bark  still  clung  to  its 
surface.  The  devoted  couple  ran  up  and  down 
the  upper  surface  of  this  beam,  tapping  from 
time  to  tune  upon  its  flat  face,  never  upon  its 
edges.  One  stayed  in  the  cage  much  of  the 
time  when  Two  and  Three  were  together.  He 
seemed  jealous  and  far  from  cheerful.  None  of 
them  ever  went  back  to  the  cage  voluntarily, 
and  as  time  passed  they  did  their  best  to  avoid 
me  when  I  was  ready  to  lock  them  up. 

On  the  evening  of  September  12,  the  birds 
were  very  restless.  Between  eight  and  nhie 
they  were  drumming  furiously.  The  night  was 
dark,  and  not  a  ray  of  light  found  its  way  into 
their  cage.  On  September  16,  they  continued 
their  hammering  until  10  r.  M.  They  took  less 
syrup  than  usual  at  this  time  and  caught  practi- 
cally no  insects.  On  September  21,  my  notes 
speak  again  of  the  small  quantity  of  syrup  con- 
sumed by  the  birds.  On  September  2G,  the  birds 
were  brought  to  Cambridge  in  a  small  box. 
They  were  fed  in  the  usual  way,  and  drank  fre- 


SE7SSST; 


YOUNG  SAPSUCKERS  IN  CAPTIVITY.     171 


into 
lined 

less 
racti- 
notes 

con- 
birds 

box. 
fre- 


quently from  their  dish  while  the  train  was  at 
rest.  The  next  day  tliey  were  given  a  room  to 
themselves.  It  was  eight  feet  by  five  and  was 
lighted  by  a  window  looking  into  an  uj)per  entry. 
Opposite  and  above  the  window  was  a  large  sky- 
light through  which  sunliglit  streamed  into  their 
room  for  several  hours  each  day.  They  promptly 
chose  the  curtain  roller  at  the  top  of  the  window 
as  their  favorite  perch,  and  to  this  I  attached 
their  syrup  dish,  which  they  recognized  and 
used  at  once. 

For  several  days  they  seemed  perfectly  well 
and  contejited.  They  hammered  the  woodwork, 
cut  holes  in  the  plastering  until  they  reached  the 
laths,  and  drilled  small  holes  in  the  floor.  Ab- 
solutely no  insects  gained  access  to  their  room. 
On  October  4,  I  state  in  my  notes  that  they 
never  seemed  more  happy  or  more  energetic. 
They  bathed  freely  at  this  time  while  I  was  in 
their  room,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  the  water 
greatly. 

On  October  11,  T  recorded  the  fact  that  Three 
seeminl  dull  and  allowed  me  to  catch  her  with- 
out opposition.  On  the  12th,  »Iie  was  evidently 
feeling  far  from  well  and  stayed  on  the  floor, 
but  Two  and  One  were  unusually  cheerful.  On 
the  13tli  Three  showed  alarming  symptoms.  As 
eavly  as  7  a.m.  slie  had  a  convulsion,  throwing 
herself  upon  her  buck  and  struggling  violently. 


172 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


I 


m 


f! 


If 


Reviving,  she  drank  some  syrup  and  seemed  bet- 
ter, but  the  spasms  recurred  at  frequent  inter- 
vals during  the  day.  She  kept  her  head  moving 
up  and  down  a  great  deal  of  the  time.  When 
a  spasm  was  imminent,  she  turned  her  head 
far  around  to  the  left,  and,  with  her  neck  thus 
twisted,  spun  around  towards  the  left  seven  or 
eight  times,  then  fell  upon  the  floor  and  beat  her 
head  upon  it.  After  most  of  these  spasms  she 
drank  from  her  cup,  and  during  the  day  she  ate 
four  flies  which  I  gave  her.  The  last  attack 
was  at  5.30  p.  m.,  and  not  long  after  she  was 
found  dead.  I  placed  her  body  in  the  hands 
of  several  graduate  students  in  biology  at  the 
Museum  of  Comparative  Zoology,  and  received 
from  one  of  them.  Dr.  Thomas  G.  Lee,  the 
following  statement :  ''•  We  found  the  intestines 
quite  empty.  In  the  stomach,  which  was  deeply 
bile-stained,  was  a  ball  composed  of  cottoa  fibres 
and  containing  fragments  of  insects.  The  liver 
was  very  large,  deeply  bile-stained,  antl  very 
soft.  The  other  organs  were  api)arently  normal." 
The  body  was  plump,  and  large  deposits  of  fat 
covered  the  abdomen. 

On  Sunday,  October  18,  Number  One,  who 
had  been  dull  for  a  day  or  two,  showed  symptoms 
similar  to  thor^  of  Number  Three.  He  had 
several  convulsions  and  was  weak  after  them. 
I  gave  him  lemon  juice.     For  several  days  I  had 


YOUNG  SAPSUCKERS  IN  CAPTIVITY.     173 


been  trying  to  change  the  diet  of  the  surviving 
birds,  but  they  refused  everything  except  their 
syrup  and  a  fly  or  two  which  they  seemed  to  care 
for  but  little.  Among  the  things  offered  them 
were  a  sweet  apple,  a  pear,  a  peach,  grapes,  and 
earthworms.  I  diluted  their  syrup  more  than 
usual,  and  put  lemon  juice  with  it.  Number 
One's  condition  was  such  on  the  evening  of  the 
18tli  that  I  had  no  hope  of  finding  him  alive  on 
the  next  morning.  He  survived,  however, 
although  in  a  most  pitiful  condition ;  his  eyes 
winked  frequently,  he  seemed  to  see  little,  and 
that  little  in  such  a  way  as  to  confuse  distances ; 
his  breathing  was  unnatural  and  he  trembled 
constantly.  Monday  passed,  and  while  One 
grew  no  better.  Two  became  seriously  ill.  On 
Tuesday  morning,  both  birds  were  alive,  that  was 
all.  At  eight  o'clock.  Two  had  a  violent  convul- 
sion and  never  recovered  from  it.  A  few  moments 
later  One,  who  had  clung  to  life  with  such  tena- 
city, died  in  the  same  way  —  maintaining  to  the 
last  the  advantage  whioh  he  had  first  claimed  in 
the  nest.  Number  One  was  examined  by  an 
expert  physician  in  Cambridge,  who  pronounced 
his  liver  enormous  and  in  a  diseased  condition. 
It  nearly  filled  the  abdominal  cavity,  crowding 
other  organs  It  was  soft  and  greenish.  Num- 
ber Tv/o  was  forwarded  to  the  Department  of 
Agriculture,  which  reported  that  the  bird  "  had 


Ml  ''i 


174 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


enlargement  and  fatty  degeneration "  of  the 
liver.  The  most  probable  cause  of  this  enlarge- 
ment of  the  liver,  M'liich  seems  to  have  been  the 
reason  for  the  death  of  the  three  sapsuckers,  was 
an  undue  proportion  of  sugar  in  their  diet.  In 
a  wild  state  they  would  have  eaten  insects  every 
day  and  kept  their  stomachs  well  filled  with  the 
chitinous  parts  of  acid  insects.  Under  restraint 
they  secured  fewer  and  fewer  insects,  until,  dur- 
ing the  last  few  ^7eeks  of  their  lives,  they  had 
practically  no  solid  food  of  any  kind.  Two  of 
them  Jived  in  captivity  exactly  fifteen  weeks, 
and  the  third  fourteen  weeks.  During  that  time 
they  subsisted  mainly  upon  maple  syrup  diluted 
to  half  its  strength  with  water.  This  diet  was 
not  refused  nor  disliked  by  them  at  the  outset ; 
quite  the  contrary,  it  was  adopted  readily.  It 
did  not  cause  speedy  death,  nor  even  indigestion. 
The  birds  did  not  mope  and  pine ;  they  enjoyed 
life,  changed  their  plumage  as  much  as  caged 
birds  could  be  expected  to  do,  and  until  nearly 
the  time  of  their  deaths  manifested  no  abnormal 
condition.  In  fact,  they  throve  upon  maple  syrup 
and  were  in  an  apparently  healthy  condition  for 
more  than  three  months. 

SUMMARY. 

From  these  experiments  I  draw  the  following 
conclusions :  (1)  that  the  yellow-breasted  wood- 


>M^v:Amm)mm':mmm^-,  .■j,i.y^i,i..iv-,j,a  k 


m 


YOUNG  SAPSUCKERS  IN  CAPTIVITY.       175 

pecker  may  be  successfully  kept  in  captivity  for 
a  period  corresponding  to  that  during  which  as 
a  resident  bird  he  taps  trees  for  their  sap,  sus- 
tained during  this  time  upon  a  diet  of  which 
from  90  to  100  per  cent  is  diluted  maple  syrup  ; 
(2)  that  this  fact  affords  evidence  of  an  ex- 
tremely strong  character,  in  confirmation  and 
support  of  the  theory  that,  when  the  yellow- 
breasted  woodpecker  taps  trees  for  their  sap,  he 
uses  the  sap  as  his  principal  article  of  food,  and 
not  primarily  as  a  bait  to  attract  insects. 


In  ;■ 


■1 


WAYS  OF  THE   OWL. 


Mi 


ii 


Since  June,  1888,  I  have  had  in  my  posses- 
sion for  longer  or  shorter  periods  eleven  live 
owls,  including  snowy,  great-horned,  long-eared, 
barred,  and  screech  owls.  I  have  also  had  oppor- 
tunities of  watching  Acadian  and  screech  owls 
in  a  wild  state.  In  June,  1888,  I  secured  two 
young  barred  owls  from  a  hollow  beech-tree  in  a 
White  Mountain  forest.  I  have  them  still  after 
three  and  a  half  years  of  happy  companionship. 
During  the  first  summer  they  were  pets  not  easily 
petted.  They  used  beak  and  claws  fiercely  and 
resented  familiarity.  I  kept  them  in  a  large 
slatted  cage  in  my  barn,  where  they  had  plenty 
of  air  and  light.  They  bathed  freely  and  fre- 
quently. They  ate  largely  of  animal  food. 
They  were  awake  by  day,  restless  at  twilight, 
but  profoundly  quiet  by  night.  They  could  see 
perfectly  in  bright  sunlight,  and  better  at  nigl't 
than  most  creatures.  In  the  autumn  I  took  them 
to  Cambridge,  where  they  were  given  a  large 
cage  in  my  cellar.  During  the  winter  I  handled 
them  more  and  more  freely,  beginning  by  using 
stout  leather  gloves,  but  soon  stroking  and  rub- 


-jr%. 


WAYS   OF  THE   OWL. 


177 


bing  their  heads  with  my  bare  hands.  They 
became  more  and  more  gentle,  and  I  found  that 
even  when  they  nipped  me  with  their  beaks 
they  did  not  attempt  to  cause  serious  pain.  One 
of  them,  whose  name  is  Puffy,  injured  his  wing 
early  in  his  captivity,  and  has  never  been  able  to 
fly.  The  other  I  keep  clipped  in  one  wing.  In 
the  spring  of  1889  I  began  taking  Puffy  with 
me  on  walks.  I  found  at  once  that  he  was 
wonderfully  useful  in  attracting  other  birds. 
During  the  summer  of  1889,  the  following  winter, 
and  the  summers  of  1890  and  1891  he  was  my 
companion  on  walks,,  drives,  and  trips  in  my 
Rushton  boat.  To  a  smaller  extent  I  have 
taken  his  mate  Fluffy  with  me,  but  he  is  of  a  less 
patient  disposition  than  Puffy,  and  during  a  long 
walk  is  sure  to  hop  from  the  stick  upon  which  I 
carry  him  many  more  times  than  Puffy  would 
in  an  equal  period.  In  May,  1891,  I  secured  a 
third  baby  barred  owl  from  the  same  beech-tree. 
From  the  first  hour  that  he  was  imprisoned  he 
has  shown  an  irritable  temper.  His  whining 
as  a  young  bird  was  incessant  by  day  and  not 
always  suspended  by  night.  Now,  at  the  ago 
of  nine  months,  he  whines  whenever  any  one 
approaches  him,  and  frequently  makes  violent 
assaults  upon  me  when  I  enter  the  part  of  my 
cellar  in  which  the  owls  are  penned.  Puffy  and 
Fluffy   during   their   first  summer    were  quite 


i      ' 


It 


178 


FRO^f  DLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


! 


timid,  and  Fluffy  is  an  arrant  coward  now  ;  out 
Prince  Edward,  as  the  new  captive  has  been 
named,  has  never  shown  fear  of  anything  living 
or  dead,  large  or  small. 

Of  two  fully  grown  screech  owls  which  I 
owned,  one  in  the  spring  of  1890,  the  other  in 
the  spring  of  1891,  little  is  to  be  said.  They 
were  unhappy,  and,  although  they  ate  well,  both 
died  from  the  effects  of  pounding  their  heads 
against  wire  netting  in  efforts  to  escape.  These 
owls,  when  approached,  stiffen  their  ears,  make 
their  feathers  lie  closely  against  their  bodies, 
keep  every  joint  and  muscle  rigid,  and  so  nearly 
close  their  eyes  that  only  an  expressionless  slit 
remains  through  which  they  watch  the  intruder. 
To  the  gentle  caress  of  a  hand  they  pay  no  heed. 
I  have  often  taken  one  of  them  in  my  hand,  laid 
him  upon  his  back,  and  so  carried  him  from 
room  to  room,  and  not  been  able  to  detect  the 
movement  of  a  feather.  Let,  however,  the  in- 
truder retire,  or  let  him  take  a  dead  mouse  from 
his  pocket  and  draw  it  by  a  string  across  the 
floor,  and  Scops  is  himself  again  in  a  twinkling. 
The  ears  are  lowered,  the  bright  eyes  open  wide 
with  a  wicked  glare,  and  the  soft  wings  take  the 
crafty  and  cruel  little  bird  swiftly  down  upon  the 
mouse.  This  habit  of  shamming  unconscious- 
ness appeared  to  be  characteristic  of  the  long- 
eared  owl  which  was  mine  for  a  few  brief  hours 


WAYS  OF  THE   OWL. 


179 


in  October,  1891.  I  handled  him  freely,  but 
the  closed  eyes  and  rigid  muscles  did  not  move. 
I  went  away  and  watched  him  from  a  distance, 
and  he  was  alert  and  making  full  use  of  his 
beautiful  eyes. 

Early  in  the  summer  of  1890,  a  friend  sent 
me  three  young  screech  owls.  They  were  as  odd 
little  gray  hobgoblins  as  could  be  imagined. 
Their  temper,  their  voices,  their  appetites  —  all 
needed  superlatives  to  describe  them.  They 
were  sent  to  the  White  Mountains  for  the  sum- 
mer, and  lived  in  a  slatted  box  under  the  barred 
owls'  big  cage.  They  loved  mice,  birds,  and 
fish,  but  did  not  take  quite  as  kindly  to  raw 
liver  as  the  barred  owls  did.  For  a  week  or 
more  two  of  them  were  taken  away  from  the 
third,  and  when  they  came  back  they  no  longer 
knew  him  as  a  brother.  His  life  was  made  a 
burden  to  him,  and  one  morning  in  August  I 
found  his  body  lying  on  the  floor  of  their  cage. 
They  had  removed  nearly  all  his  feathers  and 
would  probably  have  devoured  him  if  I  had  not 
deprived  them  of  the  fruits  of  their  unnatural 
crime.  A  few  days  passed  and  the  two  mur- 
derers quarreled  over  a  mouse.  In  the  frequent 
struggles:  that  followed,  one  was  killed  outright 
and  the  other  survived  but  twelve  hours.  My 
efforts  to  tame  these  young  screech  owls  were 
only  partially  successful.    The  murdered  one  had 


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180 


FROM  DLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


taken  several  excursions  with  me,  and  while 
I  walked  clung  to  a  stick  carried  in  my  hand, 
or  nestled  between  my  arm  and  my  body.  If 
placed  in  a  tree  he  served  quite  well  as  a  decoy, 
although  perhaps  some  species  of  birds  did  not 
take  him  as  seriously  as  they  did  the  barred 
owls  when  those  intruded  upon  their  breeding- 
grounds. 

In  June,  1891, 1  was  presented  with  Snowdon, 
a  full-grown  snowy  owl,  which  had  been  captured 
during  the  preceding  winter.  He  was  a  danger- 
ous-looking bird,  with  a  temper  and  a  trick  of 
jumping  for  one's  fingers.  I  clipped  one  wing 
and  began  by  handling  him  roughly  if  he  showed 
a  disposition  to  fight.  At  the  end  of  a  week 
he  learned  to  step  upon  a  stick  and  cling  to  it 
while  I  carried  him  back  and  forth  in  the  cellar. 
Taking  l^im  to  the  White  Mountains,  I  gave  up 
to  his  use  a  box  stall  in  the  northeast  corner  of 
my  barn,  and  kept  damp  reindeer  moss  for  him 
to  stand  upon,  plenty  of  water  for  him  to  bathe 
in  or  drink,  and  a  moderate  supply  of  food  for 
his  sustenance.  Although  we  had  some  warm 
weather,  he  was  in  perfect  health  throughout  the 
season,  and  is  now  in  excellent  condition.  At 
first  I  kept  the  barred  owls  away  from  him,  fear- 
ing that  they  might  murder  each  other,  but  later 
experiments  showed  that  Snowdon  had  no  ill 
feeling   toward   the  barred  owls,   and   ignored 


mm 


WAYS   OF  THE   OWL. 


181 


ill 


them  even  when  they  stole  his  portion  of  the 
food.  It  is  now  six  months  since  I  turned  them 
in  together,  and  during  the  whole  of  that  time 
the  four  birds  have  been  on  terms  of  quiet  in- 
difference. 

About  the  middle  of  September,  1891,  a  Bos- 
ton dealer  sent  me  a  mature  great-horned  owl. 
He  reached  r.  ^  country  place  just  in  time  to  be 
sent  back  to  Cambridge  with  the  snowy  and 
barr(;d  owls.  Clipping  one  of  his  wings,  I 
placed  him  with  the  others  in  the  250  square 
feet  of  cellar  space  fenced  off  for  them.  Puffy 
prepared  for  war,  Fluffy  fled,  Prince  Edward  re- 
garded the  stranger  with  indifference,  and  Snow- 
don  and  the  great-horned  formed  an  alliance  at 
once.  Three  months  have  passed,  and,  so  far 
as  I  know,  no  conflict  has  occurred.  The  older 
barred  owls  fear  and  dislike  the  great-horned. 
Prince  Edward  treats  him  with  brassy  famil- 
iarity, and  Snowdon  stays  with  him  in  the  cor- 
ner of  the  cellar  farthest  from  the  favorite  perch 
of  the  barred  owls. 

Having  introduced  my  characters,  I  will  now 
compare  them  in  several  particulars.  They  ar- 
range themselves,  when  I  think  of  them  as  owls 
merely,  into  two  groups  —  the  brown  owls  and 
the  gray  owls.  The  great-horned,  long-eared, 
screech,  and  Acadian  owls  seem  to  me  much 
alike  in  disposition  and  their  way  of  meeting 
man.     They  seem  like  kindred. 


182 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


iSiJ! 


I 


The  barred  and  snowy  owls,  while  quite  differ- 
ent iv(  \  the  brown  owls,  are  somewhat  alike 
in  temp*  r.  They  show  fight  when  approached, 
and  are  very  alert.  The  barred  owls  make  sev- 
eral different  sounds  expressive  of  various  emo- 
tions. They  snap  their  beaks  furiously  when 
warning  an  enemy ;  they  whine  when  hungry ; 
they  make  a  soft,  rather  musical  "  oo  "  when 
meeting  after  an  absence ;  they  chatter  with  rage 
when  pulling  in  opposite  directions  on  the  same 
bird  or  mouse ;  and  they  hoot  when  expressing 
the  sentiments  which  make  the  domestic  cock 
crow.  While  young  they  make  a  queer  chuck- 
ling chatter  when  cuddled,  and  as  the  sound 
grows  faint  it  suggests  the  music  of  a  brood  of 
chickens  nestling  under  their  mother's  feathers. 
The  hooting  varies.  In  the  August  twilight  I 
often  hear  the  loud  trumpeting  "  hoo  "  uttered 
at  intervals  of  half  a  minute  or  more  by  wild 
owls  in  the  woods.  The  common  hoot,  which 
suggests  to  some  ears  feline  music,  is  generally 
"  hoo-hoo  hoo-hoo,  hoo-hoo  hoo-hoo,  "  but  I  heard 
a  barred  owl  this  winter  in  a  remote  White 
Mountain  valley  say  "hoo-oo,  hoo,  hoo,  hoo,  hoo, 
hpo,  hoo-oo.  "  He  was  a  conversational  and  in- 
quisitive bird.  By  hiding  in  some  evergreens 
and  hooting  to  him  I  drew  him  little  by  little  to 
the  treetop  just  above  me. 

Wholly  different  is  the  conversation  of   the 


w 


WAYS   OF  THE  OWL. 


183 


snowy  owl.  His  warning  is  sometimes  beak- 
snapping,  but  oftener  an  open-mouthed,  hissing 
"  ah,"  which  has  a  most  menacing  quality.  He 
occasionally  utters  a  shrill,  whistling  scream 
expressive  of  pain  or  the  fear  of  pain,  yet  he 
makes  it  also  when  snatching  a  morsel  of  food 
held  toward  him.  Thus  far  I  have  heard  my 
great-horned  owl  make  but  four  sounds :  terrific 
beak-snapping ;  ah-ing  quite  equal  to  Snow- 
don's  ;  a  hooting  which  suggests  wind  sighing  in 
a  hollow  tree,  and  taking  the  form  of  "  whoo, 
hoo-hoo-hoo,  whooo,  whooo " ;  and  a  series  of 
soft,  musical  notes,  rolled  from  his  throat  when 
Snowdon  comes  too  near  his  clutched  breakfast. 
My  barred  owls  eat  raw  butcher's  lafcat,  mice 
and  squirrels,  bats,  any  kind  of  bird,  hawk  and 
crow  included,  fresh  fish,  lake  mussels,  snakes, 
turtle-meat,  some  species  of  frog,  earthworms, 
some  kinds  of  insects,  and  hen's  or  bird's  eggs. 
They  will  not  touch  toads  or  the  frogs  which  se- 
crete an  offensive  scent.  They  rarely  eat  tainted 
meat  or  stale  fish.  Once  they  played  for  hours 
with  a  dead  weasel,  much  as  a  cat  plays  with  a 
mouse,  but  they  did  not  eat  any  part  of  it.  They 
catch  living  fish  from  a  tank,  and  kill  mice,  squir- 
rels, birds,  frogs,  and  snakes ;  but  they  were  at 
first  greatly  alarmed  by  a  turtle,  and  a  young 
hare  running  around  their  cage  frightened  them 
almost  into  fits.    Putty  will  face  and  put  to  flight 


184 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


a  cat  or  a  dog,  but  a  pig  is  a  terror  to  him. 
"When  Puffy  was  only  six  months  old  he  caught 
and  killed  a  two-pound  pullet ;  yet  in  March  and 
April,  1891,  he  roosted  night  after  night  on  the 
same  perch  with  an  old  Cochin  hen  which  had 
begun  her  stay  in  his  cage  by  giving  him  an  un- 
merciful trouncing. 

So  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  ascertain.  Snow- 
don  will  not  kill  anything,  no  matter  how  hungry 
he  may  be.  He  eats  dead  birds,  mice,  squirrels, 
fish,  snakes,  mussels,  turtles,  if  opened,  and 
butcher's  scraps ;  but  he  will  make  no  effort  to 
catch  or  kill  a  squirrel,  mouse  or  snake,  although 
shut  up  with  them  while  hungry  for  a  day  or 
more.  In  one  instance  of  this  kind  he  ate  a 
squirrel  which  he  had  allowed  to  live  for  twelve 
hours,  as  soon  as  it  was  killed  and  given  to  him. 
I  have  seen  him  drink  once,  and  only  once.  If 
he  bathes,  it  is  a  rare  occurrence  and  done 
secretly.  Early  one  morning  in  August,  1891, 
I  heard  a  splashing  in  the  owls'  water-tank.  It 
was  about  3.30  a.  m.  Creeping  to  the  cage,  I 
peered  in,  and  saw  Snowdon  shaking  himself,  as 
though  he  had  just  finished  a  bath. 

Ilis  method  of  eating  is  suggestive  of  a  car- 
rion eater.  The  barred  owls  are  deliberate  in 
their  way  of  treating  their  food.  They  search 
for  and  crush  joints  and  finny  projections.  In 
a  frog  they  feel  of  every  limb  from  end  to  end. 


WAYS   OF  THE  OWL. 


185 


and  crunch  way  at  the  joints  until  they  are 
mellow.  They  generally  pull  out  the  stiff  wing 
and  tail  feathers,  even  in  quite  moderate-sized 
birds.  Small  snakes  they  swallow  squirming. 
Snowdon,  on  the  other  hand,  ignores  live  snakes, 
and  his  first  act  with  dead  food  is  to  swallow  it 
whole  if  he  can  possibly  distend  his  throat  far 
enough  to  let  it  pass.  I  have  seen  the  head  of 
a  large  rooster  vanish  down  his  throat,  bill  fore- 
most, without  his  making  any  effort  to  crush  it. 
Often  a  piece  of  food  will  stick  in  his  throat 
and  refuse  to  go  down,  in  spite  of  vigorous 
jerks,  jumps,  and  convulsive  swallowing.  It  is 
then  ejected  and  sometimes  dropped  altogether. 
With  a  large  piece  of  meat  or  fish  his  method  is 
different.  Standing  upon  it,  he  snaps  at  it  vi- 
ciously and  tears  off  small  bits,  in  eating  which  he 
makes  a  smacking  noise.  Engaged  in  this  way 
he  is  a  disgusting  spectacle.  His  head  is  poked 
forward,  and  the  feathers  upon  it  seem  flattened. 
The  hairy  feathers  around  his  beak  are  drawn 
back,  and  his  red  mouth  is  open  much  of  the 
time.  If  disturbed  while  eating,  he  makes  his 
shrill  and  extremely  piercing  cry.  He  is  per- 
fectly willing  to  be  fed  by  hand,  snapping  at 
and  bolting  morsels  of  liver  as  fast  as  they  are 
passed  to  him.  He  sometimes  eats  enormous 
quantities  of  food  in  a  short  time.  He  ate  the 
whole  of  a  full-grown  bittern  in  twenty -four 


186 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


I   !l 


P1i 


m 


1  ! 


hours,  and  on  another  occasion  a  cooper's  hawk 
placed  before  him  at  night  had  only  one  leg  and 
a  few  feathers  remaining  in  the  morning.  Like 
other  owls,  he  ejects  hair  and  bone  pellets  from 
his  mouth. 

The  great-horned  owl  is  not  so  ready  to  be  fed. 
He  prefers  to  eat  while  alone.  Mice,  however, 
are  too  attractive  to  be  refused,  and  whenever 
held  before  him  are  slowly  and  quietly  taken 
and  swallowed.  Other  food  he  usually  pretends 
not  to  see  until  I  have  left  him.  lie  seems 
ready  to  cat  anything  that  the  other  owls  like. 
I  know  that  he  has  bathed  at  least  once  this 
winter,  and,  judging  by  his  plumage,  he  uses 
water  freely.  When  given  a  cod's  head  or  a 
large  bird,  he  stands  upon  it  and  tears  off  mor- 
sels much  as  Snowdon  does.  His  motions  in 
doing  this  are  sudden  and  his  whole  expression 
fierce  and  tiger-like.  With  horns  slightly  flat- 
tened and  eyes  glaring,  he  first  plucks  a  piece 
of  flesh  from  the  carcass  and  then  turns  his  head 
sharply  from  side  to  side  to  see  whether  any 
other  owl  dares  to  intrude  upon  his  repast.  My 
barred,  snowy,  and  great-horned  owls  all  feed 
freely  in  the  daytime.  My  screech  owls,  on  the 
contrary,  usually  waited  until  dark  before  de- 
vouring their  food.  One  of  them  apparently 
ignored  a  live  English  sparrow  for  several  hours 
while  daylight  lasted  and  the  sparrow  was  able 


■P 


WAYS   OF  THE  OWL. 


187 


he 
e- 

rs 
le 


to  see  him,  but  when  night  came  the  sparrow 
was  speedily  caught,  plucked,  and  eaten. 

The  feeling  with  which  other  birds  regard  an 
owl  seems  to  be  a  mixture  of  curiosity,  hatred, 
and  fear.  Curiosity  impels  them  to  approach, 
hatred  causes  them  to  make  violent  and  abusive 
cries,  while  fear  inclines  them  to  wariness  and 
prevents  them  from  open  attack  upon  their 
sphinx-like  enemy.  This  feeling  of  the  birds  is 
general,  almost  universal,  and  is  shared  in  a  modi- 
fied form  by  the  smaller  owls  when  brought  in 
contact  with  large  ones.  To  the  chickadee  or 
the  warbler  it  makes  no  difference  whether  an 
owl  is  large  or  small ;  he  is  an  owl,  and  that 
prompts  inspection  and  vituperation.  In  sev- 
eral instances  I  have  found  Acadian  owls  in  the 
woods  in  consequence  of  the  racket  made  by 
birds  scolding  them.  This  winter,  on  the  day 
after  Christmas,  I  was  walking  through  a  spruce 
thicket  in  Albany,  N.  H.,  when  the  noise  of  nut- 
hatches, Hudson  Bay  and  black-capped  titmice 
and  kinglets  enticed  me  into  the  darkest  part  of 
the  growth.  The  birds  were  greatly  excited,  and 
as  I  softly  drew  near  them  I  saw  that  they  were 
in  a  circle,  all  facing  toward  some  focus  invisible 
to  me.  I  crept  farther,  and  saw  the  tail  of  a 
small  owl  projecting  from  behind  the  trunk  of  a 
tree.  Presently  his  tiny  monkey  face  was  screwed 
around  over  his  back,  and  his  timid  yellow  eyes 


FROM  BLOMIDON   TO  SMOKY. 

fixed  themselves  upon  me.  His  tormentors  soon 
flew  away,  and  after  studying  me  attentively  for 
some  time,  the  little  Acadian  floated  off  out  oi" 
sight  also. 

The  young  screech  owl,  whose  death  at  his  bro- 
ther's hands  I  have  already  mentioned,  irritated 
the  birds  of  the  forest  and  meadow  in  the  same 
way.  I  placed  him,  one  morning,  upon  a  birch- 
tree  which  was  in  use  by  a  family  of  yellow- 
breasted  woodpeckers  as  a  sap-drinking  place. 
The  sapsuckers  made  a  great  clamor  on  seeing 
him,  and  their  cries  called  together  all  the  birds 
which  were  within  earshot.  At  least  thirty  indi- 
viduals came,  including  kingbirds,  cuckoos,  cat- 
birds, veeries,  chickadees,  four  o^*  five  kinds  of 
warblers,  red-eyed  vireos,  song  sparrows,  and  two 
himiming-birds.  Having  scolded  for  nearly  ten 
minutes,  they  departed,  leaving  a  sapsucker  and 
a  humming-bird,  which  soon  forgot  the  owl  and 
resumed  their  usual  employment  of  drinking  the 
birch-tree's  sap. 

Several  times  during  the  summer  of  1891, 1 
took  my  snowy  owl  out  to  walk.  He  weighs 
three  and  a  half  pounds,  so  the  task  of  carrying 
him  by  hand  upon  an  outstretched  stick  was 
rather  a  laborious  one.  The  birds  noticed  him 
at  once,  and  scolded  as  though  he  were  of  a  spe- 
cies with  which  they  were  unpleasantly  familiar, 
instead  of  one  with  which  they  were  presumably 


WAYS   OF  THE   OWL. 


189 


kim 


lar. 


>iy 


wholly  unacquainted.  Tarushes  of  various  kinds, 
warblers,  vireos,  swallows,  and  sparrows  treated 
him  precisely  as  though  he  had  been  a  barred 
owl.  Once  a  grouse,  with  a  family  of  chicks, 
confronted  him  boldly  for  a  moment,  while  her 
brood  scattered  to  cover.  His  conduct  while  at 
liberty  was  somewhat  peculiar.  lie  shunned  tliQ 
woods,  and  if  taken  into  them,  quickly  made  his 
way  out.  His  left  wjng  being  clipped,  his  only 
method  of  advance  was  by  clumsy  leaps,  or  by  a 
queer  wobbling  run,  aided  by  outstretched  wmgs. 
Whenever  I  placed  him  upon  the  ground,  he 
woukl  hurry  away  to  a  distance,  and  stop  to 
pant  with  his  wings  dragging  wearily  at  his  sides. 
One  warm  morning  I  left  him  on  an  open  pasture 
hillside,  and  walked  away  to  a  belt  of  woods 
nearly  an  eighth  of  a  mile  from  him.  Conceal- 
ing myself  in  the  bushes,  I  watched  him  closely 
through  my  glass  for  an  hour  and  a  hhu.  The 
time  was  nearly  a  blank.  The  owl,  satisfied  that 
I  had  gone,  walked  toward  me  about  a  rod  and 
sought  the  shady  side  of  a  small  pr.  ich  of  juniper. 
There  he  emained  almost  motionless  for  the 
entire  period.  Sometimes  he  tamed  his  head  and 
watched  crows  at  a  distance.  Once  or  twice  he 
glanced  at  the  sky,  and  in  one  instance  hr  fol- 
lowed with  his  eyes  the  flight  of  a  small  bird. 
Looking  toward  the  sun  did  not  seem  to  affect 
his  vision.     That  he  could  see  things  at  a  dis- 


190 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


i 


ill 


!i  !: 


1  I   :; 


tance  was  shown  in  several  ways.  When  I  came 
slowly  from  my  hiding-place  he  saw  me  at  once, 
and  started  jumping  down  the  hill  away  from  me- 
On  another  occasion  I  took  him  out  in  a  pouring 
rain,  thinking  that  he  would  go  to  the  woods  for 
shelter.  He  was  content  with  standing  under  a 
small  apple-tree  which  gave  him  practically  no 
protection,  a  fact  which  he  discovered  and  sought 
to  remedy  by  running  to  another  tree  of  the 
same  kind.  Inactive,  unable  or  unwilling  to  kill 
mice  or  scjuirrels,  even  when  moat  hungry,  silent, 
vacant  in  expression,  cowardly,  apparently  stu- 
pid, the  snowy  owl,  judged  by  my  one  captive, 
is  a  dull  and  uninteresting  member  of  an  unusu- 
ally acute  family.  I  doubt  Snowdon's  being  a 
fair  type  of  his  species. 

The  barred  owls  are  the  particular  abomina- 
tion of  othsr  New  England  birds.  They  are  cour- 
ageous, kt»i  of  vision  by  day  and  in  the  twilight, 
strong,  alert,  quick,  yet  crafty.  Their  voracity 
makes  them  the  terror  of  every  nesting  mother, 
the  scourge  alike  of  the  forest,  the  field,  and  the 
meadow.  Of  their  merits  as  decoys  there  can  be 
no  doubt.  If  taken  while  young  and  clipped, 
they  are  readily  tamed  and  taught  to  obey  sim- 
ple orders.  Mine  have  been  invaluable  to  me  in 
studying  the  birds  of  New  Hampshire.  When 
going  for  a  walk,  I  take  one  or  both  of  the  older 
ones.   Entering  their  cage,  I  extend  a  short  stick 


if 


WAYS   OF  THE   OWL. 


191 


toward  and  on  a  level  with  their  feet,  and  say, 
somewhat  sternly,  "  Get  on."  They  generally 
bite  the  stick  once  and  then  step  upon  it,  and 
cling  to  it  patiently  while  I  carry  them  through 
any  kind  of  country.  When  I  wish  to  have 
them  attract  other  birds  I  hold  them  toward 
a  convenient  branch  and  say,  "  Get  off,"  which 
they  are  very  willing  to  do.  Then  by  whistles 
or  cries  I  attract  some  bird's  attention,  and  if  it 
proves  to  be  a  titmouse,  a  woodpecker,  a  thrush, 
or  some  other  excitable  bird,  the  alarm  is  given, 
and  from  all  quarters  the  neighbors  come  pour- 
ing in  to  join  the  tumult.  Even  while  holding 
Puffy  on  a  stick  and  walking  with  him,  I  have  had 
birds  attack  him.  Once  a  pair  of  solitary  vir^^os 
followed  me  for  some  distance,  one  of  them  fly- 
ing between  my  head  and  the  owl  three  times, 
apparently  not  noticing  me  any  more  than  though 
I  had  been  a  tree.  A  similar  attack  from  a  sharp- 
shinned  hawk  was  more  surprising  than  pleasant. 
Some  species  are  less  demonstrative  than  others, 
and  seem  to  think  silence  and  retreat  wiser  than 
vituperation.  Cedar -birds,  great  crested  fly- 
catchers, and  scarlet  tanagers  are  three  species 
which  seldom  greet  Puffy  noisily.  Game  birds, 
as  a  rule,  are  too  much  afraid  of  me  to  remain 
near  the  owl,  and  the  same  is  true  of  water-fowl. 
Loons  have,  however,  shown  curiosity  on  discov- 
ering Puffy,  and  sandpipers  clearly  dislike  him. 


Ill 


M^ 


192 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


I  tested  tills  in  an  amusing  way  one  day,  by  tak- 
ing Puffy  out  in  my  boat  to  a  point  just  to  wind- 
ward of  u  solitary  sandpiper,  and  then  setting 
him  adrift  on  a  small  board.  At  first  the  sand- 
piper did  not  see  him,  but  as  the  wind  carried 
the  placid  owl  nearer  and  nearer  the  beach,  the 
tattler  suddenly  discerned  him,  and  became  stiff 
with  astonishment.  He  faced  the  owl,  his  head 
poked  forward  and  his  body  rigid,  then  with  a 
wild  cry  he  flev,  rising  from  the  water  and  pass- 
ing over  the  trees,  away  from  the  lake. 

Whippoor wills  are  not  easy  birds  to  watch 
at  night,  but  they  usually  fly  toward  the  owl, 
uttering  excited  "  clucks,"  and  fly  several  times 
over  it  before  going  away  to  a  distance.  A  mo- 
ther night-hawk,  with  young,  showed  great  cour- 
age and  sagacity  in  dealing  with  Puffy.  I  placed 
the  owl  lear  her  nest.  She  promptly  flew  down 
on  the  side  of  the  owl  away  from  her  young,  and 
fluttered  in  the  grass  as  though  wounded.  Puffy 
hopped  toward  her.  She  flew  a  few  feet,  he  fol- 
lowed, she  flew  a  rod,  he  followed  a  third  time. 
She  flew  three  or  four  rods,  and,  as  he  hopped 
on,  she  rose  and  circled  around  him  until,  if  he 
had  seen  her  nest  in  the  first  place,  he  never 
could  have  remembered  in  which  direction  it  lay. 

The  hooting  of  a  barred  owl  in  the  daytime, 
or  my  imitation  of  the  sound,  almost  invariably 
brings  birds  to  the  spot.   Crows  will  come  a  long 


:  I  f. 


WAY^S   OF  THE    OWL. 


193 


way  in  response  to  the  hated  call.  So  will  blue 
jays,  and  several  of  the  hawks  and  woodpeckers, 
hermit  and  Swainson  s  thrushes,  chickadees,  and 
a  few  other  small  birds,  including  the  siskin  a 
winter.  Crows,  in  a  particular  region,  soon  1  i 
that  a  barred  owl  implies  a  man  in  the  same 
thicket,  but  for  the  first  two  or  three  times,  ho*.)t- 
ing  will  surely  call  them  within  short  range. 

Although  game  birds  usually  avoid  the  owl  on 
account  of  my  presence,  a  grouse  with  a  large 
brood  of  young  on  one  occasion  showed  much 
courage  in  watching  Puffy.  Her  chicks  scat- 
tered, but  she  remained  in  sight,  whining  and 
trailing  her  wings  and  doing  her  best  to  entice 
the  owl  away  from  the  spot.  Once  she  came 
within  ten  paces  of  him,  her  tail  spread  like  a 
fan  and  her  wings  arched  like  an  angry  hen's. 
Puffy  paid  little  attention  to  her,  but  seemed  to 
be  looking  for  the  chicks  which  he  had  heard 
stirring  in  the  leaves.  Whenever  he  hopped 
she  rushed  into  view,  whining.  She  remained 
near  by  during  the  whole  of  twenty  minutes 
that  I  spent  in  her  domain. 

In  July,  1891,  Puffy  had  a  face-to-face  meet- 
ing with  a  wild  barred  owl.  Puffy  was  perched 
upon  a  stump  facing  a  hemlock  forest.  Sud- 
denly he  became  rigid  and  assumed  a  very  unu- 
sual attitude  for  him,  his  head  being  thrust  for- 
ward and  his  body  flattened  so  that  his  breast 


194 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


m 


rested  upon  the  stump.  Following  the  direction 
of  his  steady  gaze,  I  saw  a  fine  specimen  of  his 
race  in  the  dark  forest.  .  He  was  as  rigid  as 
Puffy.  How  long  they  would  have  glared  at 
each  other  I  cannot  tell,  for  it  began  to  rain, 
and  the  stranger  flew  away. 

The  hearing  of  all  species  of  owls  known  to 
me  is  marvelously  keen ;  so  keen  in  fact  that  I 
know  of  no  way  of  testing  it,  since  it  is  so  much 
more  acute  than  that  of  man.  If  owls  have  the 
sense  of  smell,  I  am  unable  to  find  satisfactory 
evidence  of  it.  I  have  tried  various  experiments 
with  them,  hoping  to  prove  that  they  could  smell, 
but  the  results  are  all  negative.  They  dislike 
putrid  meat,  but  they  bite  it  to  ascertain  its  con- 
dition. They  will  not  eat  toads  or  frogs  which 
yield  an  unpleasant  odor,  but  they  did  not  reject 
these  species  until  they  had  tested  them  by  tast- 
ing. They  may  be  ever  so  hungry,  yet  they  do 
not  suspect  the  presence  of  food  if  it  is  carefully 
covered  so  that  they  cannot  see  it.  This  test  I 
ha^'e  applied  with  the  utmost  care  to  the  great- 
horned,  snowy,  and  barred  owls.  The  latter  are 
shrewd  enough  to  learn  my  ways  of  hiding  their 
food,  and  when  they  suspect  its  presence  they 
will  search  in  the  places  where  I  have  previously 
hidden  it,  pouncing  u]  ►n  pieces  of  wrapping- 
paper,  and  poking  under  feathers  and  excelsior 
with  amusing  cunning.     I  tested  them  with  the 


WAYS   OF  THE   OWL. 


195 


fumes  of  camphor,  ammonia,  and  other  disagree- 
able and  unusual  smells,  but  they  failed  to  show 
that  they  perceived  them  unless  the  fumes  were 
strong  enough  to  affect  their  breathing  or  to 
irritate  their  eyes.  Finally,  I  put  a  cat  in  a  bas- 
ket and  placed  the  basket  between  the  two  owls. 
They  were  utterly  indifferent  to  it  until  the  cat 
made  the  basket  rock,  when  both  of  them  fled 
precipitately,  and  could  not  be  induced  to  go 
near  the  basket  again.  Although  Puffy  will 
put  a  cat  to  flight  when  on  liis  mettle,  Fluffy  is 
frightened  almost  out  of  his  wits  by  them. 

A  tTapanese  toy-bird,  made  of  a  piece  of  wood 
and  a  few  scarlet  feathers,  was  eagerly  seized 
by  Puffy,  indicating  not  only  a  lack  of  power 
of  smell,  but  the  presence  of  an  appreciation  of 
color.  I  have  fancied  that  an  appreciation  of 
color  is  also  shown  by  barred  owls  in  their  fre- 
quent selection  of  beech  trees  as  nesting-places, 
by  great-horned  owls  in  their  choice  of  brown- 
trunked  trees,  and  by  Snowdon  in  an  apparent 
preference  for  gray  backgrounds. 

To  this  real  or  imaginary  ability  of  the  owls 
to  select  protective  backgrounds  is  to  be  joined 
an  undoubted  power  of  assuming  protective 
shapes.  My  great-horned  owl  can  vary  at  will 
from  a  mass  of  bristling  feathers  a  yard  wide, 
swaying  from  side  to  side  as  he  rocks  from  one 
foot  to  the  other,  to  a  slim,  sleek,  brown  post 


m'7 


I  : 


196 


FHOM    ^LOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


only  a  few  inches  wide,  with  two  jagged  points 
rising  from  its  upper  margin.  When  blown  out 
and  defiant,  his  bill  is  snapping  like  a  pair  of 
castanets,  and  his  yellow  eyes  are  opening  and 
shutting  and  dilating  and  contracting  their  pu- 
pils in  a  way  worthy  of  a  fire-breathing  Chinese 
dragon.  In  repose  he  is  neither  inflated  nor 
sleek,  but  a  well-rounded,  comfortable  mass  of 
feathers.  The  barred  owls  go  through  the  same 
processes  of  expanding  and  arching  out  their 
wings  when  awaiting  attack,  and  of  drawing  all 
their  feathers  closely  to  their  sides  when  endeav- 
oring to  avoid  observation.  As  noted  before 
Puffy  once  escaped  into  the  woods,  perched 
upon  a  small  oak  stump,  drew  his  feathers  into 
such  a  position  that  he  seemed  a  mere  continu- 
ation of  the  stump,  closed  his  feathered  eyelids 
until  only  a  narrow  slit  remained  for  him  to 
peep  through,  and  stayed  perfectly  stiff  for  an 
hour  while  I  hunted  for  him  high  and  low.  I 
passed  by  him  several  times  without  bringing 
my  eyes  to  the  point  of  recognizing  him  as  a  liv- 
ing thing.  This  power  is  shared  by  the  screech 
owl  and  the  long-eared  owl.  The  plumage  of 
the  snowy  owl  is  so  solid  that  he  seems  more 
scaly  or  hairy  than  feathered.  He  does  not,  so 
far  as  my  specimen  shows,  expand  and  arch  his 
wings.  Instead  of  standing  straight  and  be- 
coming slim  and  rigid,  he  crouches  and  flattens 


WAYS  OF  THE  OWL. 


197 


»g 


himseK  when  seeking  concealment.  I  can  im- 
agine him  in  his  Labrador  wilds  crouching  thus 
amid  a  waste  of  junipers  and  reindeer  moss,  and 
baffling  the  eye  which  sought  to  detect  him  there. 

The  control  which  owls  have  and  exercise  over 
their  feathers  is  not  limited  to  moments  when 
they  wish  to  appear  terrible  or  inconspicuous. 
They  seem  to  ruffle  them  or  smooth  them,  expand 
them  or  withdraw  them  in  queer  ways  at  pleas- 
ure. The  barred  owls,  when  stepping  stealthily 
across  a  floor  after  a  dead  mouse  drawn  by  a 
thread,  tuck  up  their  feathers  as  neatly  as  a 
woman  holds  her  skirts  out  of  the  mud.  When 
eating,  the  feathers  nearest  the  mouth  are  pulled 
aside  in  a  most  convenient  way.  When  wet,  the 
feathers  seem  to  shake  themselves  as  well  as  to 
be  shaken  by  motions  of  the  body,  head,  and 
wings.  My  wife,  in  making  a  water-color  sketch 
of  Snowdon,  complained  that,  although  she 
could  not  see  him  move,  he  changed  his  outline 
a  dozen  times  in  an  hour. 

The  owl's  eye  is  his  most  useful  member.  The 
popular  belief  that  the  owl  is  seriously  blinded 
by  light  is  almost  wholly  unfounded,  at  least  so 
far  as  the  species  of  which  I  am  writing  are 
concerned.  When  a  man  approaches  an  owl  in 
broad  daylight  the  owl,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten, 
will  close  his  eyes,  and  so  appear  sleepy.  As  I 
have  already  explained,  this  is  an  effort  to  escape 


mm 
II  ill 


f  II 


\i>'i    •> 


«> 


'I 


^ 


198 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


notice  by  the  assumption  of  a  protective  shape. 
That  it  is  not  due  to  any  dread  of  light  or  in- 
ability to  see  \n  shown  by  the  following  instances 
of  perfect  seeing  by  owls  in  bright  daylight. 
Walking  through  a  Cambridge  road  in  March, 
1891, 1  saw  an  Acadian  owl  perched  on  a  willow 
limb  about  fifty  feet  from  me.  His  pliunage  was 
stiffened  and  his  eyes  nearly  shut.  I  approached 
him  and  slowly  raised  my  hand  toward  him. 
Suddenly  his  eyes  opened  wide  and  glared  at  me. 
Then  the  soft  wings  spread  and  he  fell  forward 
upon  them,  and  flew  toward  the  sun  to  a  distant 
perch.  The  Acadian  owl  already  mentioned 
as  having  been  seen  in  December,  1891,  in  the 
spruce  forest  of  the  Swift  River  valley,  watched 
me  keenly,  and  swung  his  small  head  around 
after  the  manner  of  owls,  trying  to  see  me 
clearly  from  more  than  one  point  of  view. 

The  screech  owl  which  I  first  owned,  although 
shamming  sleep  one  morning  when  I  entered  the 
room  where  I  kept  it,  pounced  upon  a  dead  mouse 
which  I  let  fall  upon  the  floor,  and  flew  off  with 
it  before  I  realized  what  had  happened.  One 
of  my  three  young  screech  owls  when  only  two 
months  old  tried  to  catch  a  sap-sucking  wood- 
pecker which  had  perched  near  it  in  the  sunlight 
on  a  dead  tree.  My  snowy  owl,  as  I  have  al- 
ready stated,  watches  birds  flying  across  the  sky 
at  a  distance,  and   once   saw  me  as  I  slowly 


WAYS  OF  THE  OWL. 


199 


Igh 


emerged  from  the  woods  an  eighth  of  a  mile 
from  him.  Grreat-horiied  owls  are  well  known 
to  be  active  by  day,  and  not  inconvenienced  by 
sunlight.  The  barred  owls,  however,  exhibit  the 
most  marvelous  powers  of  sight,  and  their  eyes 
may  well  be  called  telescopic.  In  dozens  of  in- 
stances Puffy  has  seen,  and  by  his  fixed  watch- 
ing of  the  sky  has  called  my  attention  to,  hawks 
flying  at  so  great  a  height  that  they  were  well- 
nigh  beyond  man's  vision.  More  than  this,  he 
has  on  two  or  three  occasions  seen  a  hawk  ajv 
proaching  in  the  upper  air  when  my  eyes,  aided 
by  a  fairly  strong  glass,  failed  to  see  the  bird 
until  it  drew  nearer  and  grew  large  enough  for 
me  to  detect  it  as  a  mere  dot  in  the  field  of  the 
lens.  My  eyes,  by  the  way,  are  rather  stronger 
and  more  far-sighted  than  the  average.  If  the 
bird  thus  sighted  by  Puffy  is  a  hawk  or  an  eagle, 
he  watches  it  until  it  is  oat  of  sight.  If  it  proves 
to  be  a  crow  or  a  swift,  he  gives  it  merely  a 
glance  and  looks  away.  The  barred  owls  fre- 
quently look  at  the  sun  with  their  eyes  half- 
closed  for  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  at  a  time. 
Why  they  do  it  I  am  wholly  at  a  loss  to  explain. 
I  am  in  doubt  as  to  how  much  Puffy  can  see 
at  night.  I  once  held  a  cat  within  a  few  inches 
of  him  in  the  darkness,  and  he  did  not  stir.  Had 
he  seen  it,  he  would  certainly  have  moved  and 
probably  snapped  his  beak.     In  August,  1891, 


ill 


200 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


I  let  him  out  after  dark  on  a  patch  of  closely 
cropped  grass  where  the  dim  light  enabled  me 
to  seiB  him  when  he  moved.  I  went  to  the  near- 
est tree  and  seated  myself  with  my  back  against 
its  trunk  and  my  legs  stretched  out  before  me. 
Half  an  hour  passed,  Puffy  scarcely  moving  ex- 
cept when  a  bat  flew  over  him,  and  I  keeping 
perfectly  motionless.  At  last  he  came  toward 
me,  slowly,  a  yard  or  two  at  a  time.  When  he 
was  within  a  few  feet,  I  could  see  his  outline 
quite  plainly.  One  more  hop  brought  him  to 
my  knee,  upon  which  he  jumped.  Instantly  he 
bounded  into  the  air  and  made  off,  unmistakably 
frightened.  He  had  no  idea  that  he  was  going 
to  strike  a  leg  and  not  a  log ;  yet  if  his  eyes 
had  been  much  keener  than  a  man's  he  would 
have  seen  not  only  that  my  clothes  were  not 
wood,  but  that  I  was  leaning  against  the  tree 
trunk  watching  him.  In  several  instances  I  have 
called  wild  barred  owls  at  night  and  have  had 
them  alight  in  treetops  close  .ibove  me.  I  could 
see  them  against  the  sky,  but  apparently  they 
could  not  see  me  sitting  among  the  brakes  and 
bushes  below  them.  Once  with  an  owl  thus 
above  me  I  imitated  the  squeaking  cry  of  a 
wounded  bird.  I  wished  I  had  not,  for  the  owl's 
ghostly  wings  brushed  past  my  face  so  closely 
that  I  fell  back  into  the  bushes,  fearing  that  he 
would  strike  at  me  again. 


^^- 1 1 


WAYS  OF  THE  OWL. 


201 


The  memory  of  my  owls  is  noticeably  good. 
Puffy  and  Fluffy,  the  two  barred  owls  which  I 
have  had  longest,  remember  their  favorite  perches 
from  season  to  season,  and  resume  their  chosen 
roosts  after  months  of  absence.  In  one  instance 
Fluffy,  on  his  return  to  Cambridge  after  four 
months  in  the  mountains,  flew  the  length  of  the 
cellar,  expecting  to  strike  a  perch  which  had 
been  removed,  and,  failing  to  find  it,  fell  to  the 
floor.  It  is  only  necessary  for  me  to  bring  a  box- 
trap  into  the  barn  for  Puffy  to  come  to  the  front 
of  his  cage,  eager  to  be  given  a  chance  to  catch 
the  chipmunk  which  past  experience  leads  him 
to  believe  is  in  it.  Similar  eagerness  is  shown 
in  winter,  when  I  bring  a  paper  parcel  into  the 
cellar,  the  owls  knowing  so  well  that  it  contains 
food  that  they  will  tear  it  open  themselves  if  I 
do  not  open  it  for  them.  If  the  bundle  is  brought 
in  without  their  knowledge  and  thrown  at  ran- 
dom upon  the  floor,  they  do  not  find  it,  and  will 
leave  it  for  days  untouched.  Puffy  does  not  like 
going  out  in  my  boat.  If  he  finds  that  I  am  tak- 
ing him  to  the  shore  near  it,  he  invariably  jumps 
off  his  stick  and  tries  to  hide  in  the  bushes. 
Snowdon  knows  a  piece  of  cloth  which  I  have 
used  to  throw  over  his  head  when  I  have  wished 
to  handle  him,  and  the  sight  of  it  is  enough  to 
cause  him  to  make  strong  efforts  to  escape  from 
his  cage.   All  three  of  the  barred  owls  hide  their 


'i 


202 


FROM  liLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


surplus  food,  and  remember  where  they  keep  it. 
Snowdon,  on  the  contrary,  sometimes  stands  over 
portions  which  he  is  not  ready  to  devour,  letting 
his  feathers  sink  down  so  as  to  cover  them. 
Puffy  not  only  understands  the  commands  "  Get 
on  "  and  "  Get  off,"  but  he  knows  his  own  name, 
and  generally  answers  when  I  call  him  by  giving 
a  friendly  "  clap,  clap,"  with  his  beak.  He  has 
frequently  revealed  his  position  to  me  by  this 
answer  when  I  have  lost  him  in  the  bushes,  tall 
grass,  or  ?t  twilight.  That  he  especially,  and  all 
my  other  owls  to  a  less  degree,  know  me  and  dis- 
tinguish me  readily  from  strangers,  is,  I  think, 
imdoubtedly  a  fact.  Thus  far  I  have  been  un- 
able to  see  that  any  of  the  owls  have  a  clear  no- 
tion of  time,  except  as  indicated  by  the  coming 
or  going  of  daylight.  The  digestive  workings  of 
owls  are  extremely  economical.  In  summer  the 
birds  have  enormous  appetites,  and  become  fran- 
tic with  hunger  if  not  fed  every  forty  or  fifty 
hours.  In  winter,  on  the  contrary,  the  mature 
birds  fast  for  a  week  or  more  without  complaint. 
During  the  winter  of  1889-90  I  could  not  ascer- 
tain that  Fluffy  ate  anything  for  more  than  a 
month  —  that  is,  from  Christmas-time  until  the 
first  week  in  February.  Throughout  this  period 
he  seemed  well,  though  inclined  to  keep  quiet 
and  to  stay  in  the  darkest  corner  of  the  cellar. 
When  fed  regularly  and  amply,  all  the  species 


WAYS  OF  THE  OWL. 


203 


of 


3cer- 
111  a 
the 
riod 
uiet 
liar, 
ecies 


of  owls  with  which  I  have  had  any  experience 
cast  from  their  mouths  egg-shaped  "  pellets," 
composed  of  the  bone  and  hair,  fish-scales,  and 
feathers  which  remain  in  their  stomachs  after 
the  digestion  of  the  more  nutritious  parts  of  re- 
cent meals.  This  ejection  is  accomplished  easily 
and  quickly,  with  very  little  visible  muscular 
action.  It  usually,  or  at  least  often,  takes  place 
at  the  moment  when  the  owl  has  another  hearty 
meal  in  view.  The  owls'  furnaces  burn  nearly 
all  that  goes  into  them.  Considering  the  amount 
of  fuel  put  in,  the  extremely  small  amount  of 
ashes  is  wonderful. 

In  disposition  my  owls  vary  widely.  The 
barred  owls  are  —  as  owls  go  —  remail'iddy 
sweet-tempered  and  gentle.  I  never  have  seen 
one  offer  violence  to  another,  even  when  two 
were  struggling  over  a  morsel  which  both  were 
determined  to  have.  Snowdon  is  sullen,  stupid, 
cowardly,  and  treacherous.  The  great-horned 
has  a  temper,  but  he  generally  keeps  it  concealed 
under  an  air  of  dignified  reserve.  My  screech 
owls,  when  not  shamming  sleep  or  death,  were 
irritable,  quarrelsome,  and  ferocious.  Between 
my  three  barred  owls  there  are  individual  differ- 
ences in  disposition,  which  are  readily  learned 
but  not  easily  described.  They  stand  out  dis- 
tinctly in  my  mind  as  three  characters,  just  as 
three  children  or  three  horses  would  be  distiu- 


204 


FROM  BLOAflDON  TO  SMOKY. 


I 


giiished  when  I  thought  of  them.  I  feel  as  much 
attachment  for  Puffy  as  I  possibly  covild  for  an 
intelligent  and  faithful  dog.  His  crippled  wing 
has  probably  made  him  unusually  docile  and 
tractable,  but,  whatever  may  be  the  cause  of  his 
goodness,  he  certainly  is  a  model  of  patience, 
placidity,  and  birdly  virtue.  This,  in  combina- 
tion with  pluck,  which  leads  him  to  charge  upon 
and  vanquish  dogs,  cats,  and  domestic  fowls,  and 
a  magnanimity  which  enabled  him  to  roost  for 
weeks  alongside  of  an  old  hen,  will  make  him 
worthy  of  owlish  canonization  when  in  good  time 
he  is  gathered  to  his  fathers. 

(from  MR.  BOLLES'  NOTES.) 

March  28,  1893.  I  took  four  small  mice  to 
the  door  of  the  owls'  cage.  It  was  a  week  since 
the  owls  had  been  fed  and  they  were  very  hun- 
gry. Fluffy  was  on  a  barrel  close  to  the  door. 
I  called  Puffy,  and  swung  a  mouse  by  its  tail 
so  that  Fluffy  near  by,  and  Prince  Edward  eigh- 
teen feet  away,  could  see  it.  Prince  Edward  at 
once  flew  up  to  the  barrel.  I  called  Puffy  again. 
Then  I  tossed  the  mouse  into  the  air  and  Fluffy 
caught  it,  going  to  the  floor  with  it,  and  holding 
it  in  his  mouth  until  Prince  Edward  came  to 
him.  Then  Fluffy  poked  his  head  forward  qui- 
etly, and  gave  Prince  Edward  the  mouse.  Puffy 
then   came  from  the  back  corner  of  the  cage, 


WAl'S   OF   THE   OlVi^. 


205 


and  I  gave  him  mouse  number  two.  I  tossed 
mouse  number  three  to  Fluffy,  who  caught  it  in 
the  air  and  forthwith  gave  it  to  Puffy,  advan- 
cing io  do  so.  Fluffy  also  caught  mouse  number 
four  and  held  it  nearly  two  minutes  before  Prince 
Edward  came  down,  walked  up  to  him,  grabbed 
it  from  him  chuckling,  and  ate  it.  Then  Fluffy 
looked  up  to  me  for  more,  but  I  had  none. 

Monday,  April  3d.  I  gave  Fluffy  a  mouse. 
He  held  it  in  his  mouth  and  looked  long  at  Prince 
Edward,  then  at  Puffy,  and  finally  flew  to  the 
latter  and  oft'ered  it  to  him ;  pushed  it  against 
his  beak  in  fact.  Puffy  had  a  chunk  of  meat  in 
his  mouth  and  would  not  take  the  mouse.  Fluffy 
then  offered  the  mouse  to  Prince  Edward,  mak- 
ing many  times  a  very  curious  "  cluck,  cluck, 
cluck,  cluck,"  which  closely  resembled  the  call- 
ing of  a  domestic  fowl.  Prince  Edward  refused 
the  mouse,  and  Fluffy  offered  it  in  vain  first  to 
one  then  to  the  other  fc*'  ten  minutes,  clucking 
as  he  did  so. 


img 
to 
I  qui- 
uffy 
age, 


m 
m 


i! 


BIRD  TRAITS. 

While  birds  as  a  race  have  many  habits  and 
instincts  in  common,  their  family  differences  are 
strongly  marked.  The  hawk  and  the  humming- 
bird answer  equally  well  to  the  scientist's  defi- 
nition of  a  bird,  but  Napoleon  and  a  bonbon 
maker  answer  equally  well  to  his  definition  of 
man.  The  destroyer  and  the  confectioner, 
whether  among  men  or  birds,  have  different 
v/ays  of  looking  at  life,  and  of  dealing  with  their 
animate  and  inanimate  surroundings.  In  hu- 
man communities  the  principal  actors  are  the 
farmers,  artisans,  merchants,  priests  and  teach- 
ers, soldiers,  mariners,  artists,  knaves,  and  idlers. 
Perhaps  I  am  over  fanciful,  but  against  each  of 
these  classes  save  one  —  the  merchant  —  I  can 
set  without  hesitation  a  group  of  birds  whose 
life  currents  seem  to  me  to  run  in  as  various 
channels  as  those  of  the  great  groups  in  human 
society. 

My  abstract  farmer  is  a  burly  fellow  who 
rises  early,  whistles  cheerily  if  the  sun  be  bright, 
works  in  all  weather,  keeps  to  the  fields  rather 
tV  n  to  the  forest,  and  to  whose  senses  nothing 


BIRD   TRAITS. 


207 


IS  more  pleasant  than  the  rustle  of  corn  leaves 
and  the  sheen  of  grain  undulating  in  the  breeze. 
He  is  slow,  persistent,  graminivorous. 

Against  him  in  the  bird  creation  I  set  the 
sparrow.  The  sparrows,  buntings,  and  finches 
love  the  sunshine.  They  are  interested  in  the 
crops  ;  as  a  rule  shun  the  gloom  of  the  forest, 
and  make  their  homes  in  fields  and  meadows. 
Before  sunrise,  in  May,  the  clear  whistle  of  the 
white-throat  welcomes  the  coming  dawn.  When 
the  snow  first  melts  in  April,  or  if  by  chance  it 
wastes  away  in  December  or  January,  the  snow 
buntings  and  juncos  are  promptly  at  work  in  the 
ploughed  fields  or  among  the  weeds  left  in  the 
potato  patch.  Winter  do(js  not  see  the  farmer 
moving  to  Florida  or  Cuba.  He  stays  under  the 
shadow  of  Chocorua,  breaking  the  ice  in  the 
pond  for  his  cattle,  scattering  corn  to  his  fowls, 
listening  to  the  voice  of  the  ice  in  the  night,  and 
having  a  gun  ready  for  the  fox  prowling  about 
the  barnyard  at  dawn. 

The  birds  around  him  in  these  wintry  days  are 
r.  ot  warblers  and  swallov^s,  vireos  and  thrushes  ; 
they  are  sparrows.  Nine  tenths  of  them  are  pine 
grosbeaks,  crossbills,  snow  buntings,  siskins,  or 
those  joyous  creatures  of  the  snow  country,  the 
confiding  redpoll  linnets.  Truly,  farmers  and 
sparrows  belong  to  the  land,  cling  to  it,  live  by  it, 
love  it.  Their  acts  and  instincts  are  inspired 
by  it  and  have  its  color. 


k    I 


208 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


'I 


i 


How  different  from  the  farming  sparrows  are 
the  gulls  and  terns  —  children  of  sky  and  ocean, 
bred  to  the  stonn.  They  have  no  music.  Their 
voice  j,re  shrill  like  tlie  boatswain's.  They  have 
no  home  save  a  spot  of  sand  or  rock  where  their 
young  are  reared  near  thundering  surf  and  moan- 
ing tides.  Their  lives  are  long-continued  buffet- 
ings  with  wind  and  wave,  —  voyages  under  white 
wings  across  monotonous  wastes  of  water.  They 
are  the  mariners  among  birds,  and  all  their  ways 
have  the  mark  of  the  sea  upon  them.  The  sea 
rules  them,  charms  them,  binds  them  to  itself, 
and  robs  them  as  it  robs  their  human  counter- 
parts of  much  of  the  sweetness  and  rest  of  home. 

Not  all  of  the  birds  which  live  among  forests 
and  flowers  share  in  the  sweetness  of  home  life. 
There  are  among  them,  as  elsewhere,  discordant 
creatures  who  seem  to  draw  no  joy  from  joyous 
surroundings  and  whose  deeds  are  full  of  selfish- 
ness and  misappropriation  of  others'  hopes  and 
rights.  Some  of  these  birds  carry  their  true  char- 
acter clearly  written  upon  their  faces.  The  cow- 
bird  is  a  sneak.  Her  glances  are  furtive.  When 
seeking  the  home  of  a  vireo  or  warbler,  with  the 
intent  to  thrust  her  G^g  upon  the  mercies  of  a 
stranger,  she  tells  in  every  motion  of  her  body 
the  tale  of  her  inherited  wretchedness  and  con- 
scious guilt.  The  hawks  and  owls  bear  in  their 
faces  the  imprint  of  evil.     There  is  something 


rji. 


,^itir.:^.i 


r.-(fiff?.s 


BIRD   TRAITS. 


209 


mg 


in  the  expression  of  a  dying  bird  of  prey  which 
suggests  the  agony  of  sin  buried  in  remorse  which 
comes  too  late. 

Owls  and  hawks  are  murderers  by  night  or 
robbers  by  day.  There  is  something  inspiring 
in  the  sight  of  a  great  bird  with  wonderful 
powers  of  vision  and  flight  soaring  higher  and 
higher  towards  the  sun.  Man  cannot  imitate  his 
flight ;  but  there  are  men  who  do  in  spirit  what 
the  hawk  or  eagle  does  in  the  flesh.  They  with- 
draw their  business  plans  and  purposes  far  from 
the  ken  of  their  fellows  and  expected  victims, 
and  then  from  their  vantage  point  descend  to 
strike  suddenly  with  the  swiftness  and  cruelty  of 
the  plundering  eagle. 

The  owl  reminds  me  of  some  men  whom  I 
have  had  the  misfortune  to  know  —  silent  .>nd 
sinister  by  day  or  when  exposed  to  the  scrutiny 
of  their  fellows ;  taking  without  reply  or  blow 
the  taunts  and  abuse  of  those  whom  they  have 
wronged  ;  but  by  night  devils  in  thought,  pur- 
pose, and  action.  To  the  owl  everything  which 
possesses  the  power  of  motion  is,  presumably,  fit 
to  be  devoured;  quadruped,  bird,  fish,  reptile, 
insect,  moUusk,  any  or  all,  unless  specially  pro- 
tected, invite  to  murder  ;  so  with  some  men,  no- 
thing is  too  pure,  too  beautiful,  too  defenseless 
to  be  sacrificed  to  their  selfishness.  One  owl  is 
enough  for  many  miles  of  forest.  Fortunately 
for  society,  owlish  men  are  similarly  scarce. 


210 


FRO^f  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


m 


Mi 


There  are  some  birds  of  deservedly  bad  repute 
who  wear  an  attractive  exterior  and  maintain 
jaunty  manners.  The  blue  jay,  for  instance, 
though  somewhat  flashy  in  his  dress  and  loud  in 
his  voice,  passes  with  the  unsuspecting  as  a  bird 
worthy  of  confidence,  'f  not  of  admiration.  Yet 
if  ever  there  was  a  scoundrel  in  feathers,  he 
is  one.  He  is  my  ideal  pickpocket,  shoplifter, 
smuggler,  and  confidence  man.  Most  people 
think  his  cousin,  the  crow,  an  undoubted  villain ; 
yet  he  is  considerably  better  off  in  morals  than 
his  gayly  dressed  relative.  This  is  not  saying 
that  the  crow  is  not  a  blackleg. 

Among  men,  the  class  usually  victimized  by 
rogues  is  that  which  is  dressed  and  fed  well,  and 
luxuriously  housed.  There  is  such  a  class  among 
birds,  as  the  rogues  rejoice  to  know.  The  war- 
blers toil  little,  talk  much,  live  well,  dress  gayly, 
—  always  a  la  mode^  —  and  dwell  in  elaborate 
and  beautiful  houses.  Redstarts,  yellow-rumps, 
black-polls,  and  bay-breasteds  make  elaborate 
changes  in  their  costumes.  The  parula  lives  in 
the  most  dainty  of  summer  houses.  The  Cana- 
dian warbler  wears  a  necklace  of  black  pearls. 
The  Maryland  yellow-throat  goes  to  a  masque 
ball  in  a  black  domino  every  night  in  the  season. 
There  is  nothing  solemn  or  melancholy  to  these 
light-hearted,  frivolous  little  birds.  No  sooner 
is  there  a  chill  in  the  air,  a  breath  of  something 


iii 


BIRD   TRAITS. 


211 


coming  after  August  sunshine,  than  these  chil- 
dren of  the  world  start  southward,  not  to  return 
until  all  traces  of  snow  have  vanished.  Truly 
the  warblers  must  be  counted  the  elite  of  bird 
society  ;  but  they  are  as  surely  the  frequent  vic- 
tims of  its  knaves. 

The  surest  way  to  tell  shoddy  is  to  hold  it 
against  the  true  fabric.  The  same  is  true  of 
shoddy  people  and  shoddy  birds.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Tanager,  he  in  scarlet  coat  and  she  in  yellow 
satin,  are  best  measured  by  contrast  with  the  re- 
fined warblers.  Their  voices  are  loud,  their  man- 
ners brusque,  their  house  without  taste  or  real 
comfort.  They  have  no  associates,  no  friends. 
They  never  seem  at  ease,  or  interested  in  the 
misfortunes  or  joys  of  those  beneath  them.  Un- 
fortunately there  :ire  other  Tanagers  in  the  world 
than  those  who  wear  feathers. 

If  the  sparrows  are  by  nature  children  of 
the  soil  and  the  warblers  children  of  the  world, 
the  thrushes  are  without  doubt  the  artists,  the 
musicians  of  the  wood.  I  have  never  met  a  lover 
of  New  England  bird  music  who  would  hesitate 
a  moment  about  placing  the  hermit  thrush  and 
his  next  of  kin  foremost  among  the  songsters  of 
this  part  of  the  continent.  They  are  true  artists. 
Their  music  is  exquisite  in  itself,  and  their  ren- 
dering of  it  is  sincere  and  emotional.  The  her- 
mit thrush  resting  upon  the  low,  leafless  limb  of 


F^i&feiSifciSfesiii ' ' 


lllrHl 


II 


212 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


a  pine  in  the  northern  wilderness,  and  rendering 
his  several  phrases  deliberately,  smoothly,  pa- 
thetically, is  as  true  a  musician  after  his  kind  as 
the  first  tenor  in  the  great  cathedral  choir,  whose 
sweet,  sad.  tones  vibrate  through  vaulted  nave, 
carrying  to  listening  hearts  the  interpretation 
of  the  composer's  immortal  passion.  Again  and 
again,  summer  after  summer,  as  I  have  heard  the 
song  of  this  thrush,  varying  from  the  low,  trem- 
ulous notes  in  his  first  phrase  to  the  high,  clear 
notes  in  the  third,  it  has  seemed  to  me  that  his 
song  is  to  bird  music  what  the  Cujus  Animam 
in  Rossini's  Stabat  Mater  is  to  the  music  of  the 
Christian  church. 

The  first  tenor  and  the  cobbler  may  live  in 
the  same  street  and  be  good  neighbors  to  the  ex- 
tent of  a  cordial  "  Good  morning  "  or  "  Merry 
Christmas."  So  the  hermit  thrush  and  the  yel- 
low-breasted woodpecker  are  neighbors  and  ac- 
quaintances. This  woodpecker,  commonly  and 
justly  known  as  the  "  sapsucker,"  is  the  noisiest 
fellow  with  his  awl  and  hammer  in  the  whole 
forest.  He  wears  a  red  and  black  cap  and  a 
yellow  apron.  His  voice  is  loud  and  unmusical. 
His  motions  are  ungraceful  and  full  of  jerks. 
He  is  inquisitive  and  loquacious.  If  a  brawl 
betv  een  an  owl  and  a  mob  of  chickadees  and 
nuthatches  breaks  the  stillness  of  the  swamp, 
his  work  is  forgotten,  and  off  he  rushes  full  of 


BIRD   TRAITS. 


213 


noise  to  have  a  hand  in  the  quarrel.  His  cob- 
blirg  is  effective.  The  second  summer  after  his 
tapping  and  girdling  of  a  canoe  birch,  frqm 
which  he  and  his  associates  have  drawn  the  sap, 
is  usually  marked  by  the  unmistakable  failure 
of  the  tree's  vitality. 

Ai.  the  \'oodpeckers  are  artisans.  They  love 
the  resonant  tones  of  the  trunks  they  tap  or 
hammer,  as  the  smith  loves  the  ring  of  his  anvil 
and  the  cooper  the  song  of  his  hoops  and  staves. 
The  largest  among  them  is  most  like  the  l^ack- 
smith.  He  is  the  logcock  of  the  great  northern 
forests.  Black  and  strong,  with  a  big  voice  and 
a  temper,  his  eyes  flash  and  his  blows  echo 
and  cause  ruin  where  they  fall.  He  suggests  an 
older  age  than  this  of  steam  sawmills  and  wast- 
ing forests  "  protected  "  against  Canadian  lum- 
ber. Just  so  the  blacksmith  seems  a  survivor 
of  the  age  before  machinery,  when  individual 
men  made  individual  things,  and  division  of 
labor  and  machines  with  replaceable  parts  were 
unknown. 

Among  the  other  artisan  birds  are  the  brown 
creepers,  perpetually  winding  imaginary  spirals 
round  the  trunks  of  the  hemlocks ;  the  nut- 
hatches, titmice,  and  wrens.  Fortunately  for  the 
trees,  these  little  workers  know  nothing  of  strikes 
or  lockouts.  If  the  first  tenor  ever  goes  in 
search  of  bright  eyes  among  the  artisan's  daugh- 


214 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


iiLi 


ters,  ho  must  be  charmed  by  the  rippling,  rol- 
licking trill  of  the  winter  wren.  Like  the  brook 
which  flows  through  the  forest,  now  underground, 
now  rippliiif:  across  a  patch  of  sunlight,  cold  as 
ice,  interrupted  by  darting  trout,  so  the  song  of 
the  wren  comes,  goes,  flashes,  disappears,  rises 
into  bold  prominence,  is  varied  by  sudden 
changes  and  whims,  and  then  ripples  off  into 
silence. 

The  teachers  and  preachers  among  men,  who 
go  about  dispensing  advice  as  to  the  way  to 
avoid  trouble,  are  well  matched  among  birds  by 
the  vireos.  The  red-eyed  vireo  is  merely  prosy. 
His  mild,  tuneless  platitudes  soon  become  un- 
bearable. The  yellow  -  throated  and  warbling 
vireos  are  more  effective.  They  touch  the  heart 
by  the  purity  and  gentleness  of  their  chiding. 
But  the  solitary  vireo  is  needed  to  play  the  role 
of  the  revivalist.  When  he  sees  that  arch  fiend 
in  feathers,  an  owl,  anathema  pervades  the 
neighborhood,  and  the  population  is  treated  to 
the  most  effective  kind  of  dogmatic  declamation. 
The  bluebird  is,  however,  my  favorite  reformer. 
There  is  a  gentleness,  a  sweet  persuasiveness  to 
her  discourse,  even  when  a  crime-soaked  owl  is 
addressed,  that  is  very  conducive  to  neighborly 
living. 

It  is  not  war-worn  veterans  who  have  counter- 
parts  among  the  birds,  but  the  gay  soldiery  of 


BIRD   TRAITS. 


215 


iter- 
of 


the  parade  ground.  How  impressive  is  the 
charge  of  the  neatly  uniformed  cavalry,  with 
colors  flying,  sabres  flashing,  and  hoofs  pound- 
ing on  the  cropped  turf !  The  men  lose  individ- 
ual life  and  move  merely  as  part  of  the  charging 
column.  They  are  thrilled  by  the  rush  of  air 
in  their  ears,  and  the  glitter  and  flash  of  metal 
and  color  around  them.  So  it  is  with  the  swal- 
lows and  swifts  charging  through  the  summer 
sunshine  and  carrying  dismay  and  death  to  the 
insect  ranks  before  them.  On  a  July  evening  I 
have  seen  four-score  barn  swallows  with  long 
slender  forked  tails,  chestnut  waistcoats  and  blue 
jackets  appear  with  even  ranks  and  uniform 
flight,  sweep  down  upon  the  lake,  skim  its  calm 
surface,  and  then,  by  some  mysterious  coincidence 
of  will,  wheel  to  right  and  upwards  and  soar  far 
into  the  upper  air,  where  sunlight  still  lingered 
upon  Chocorua's  summit.  There  is  the  same 
thrill,  flash  of  color,  presence  of  united  determi- 
nation and  losing  of  the  individual  in  the  charg- 
ing column,  which  are  the  special  characteristics 
of  cavalry.  Late  in  August  it  is  common  to  see 
great  numbers  of  night  hawks,  gathering  from  a 
hundred  pastures  for  migration,  sail  across  the 
sky  from  west  to  east,  with  open  ranks  and  even 
flight.  I  once  saw  a  flock  of  nearly  fifty  red- 
wing blackbirds,  all  males,  in  full  breeding  plum- 
age, rise  at  once  from  a  meadow,  fly  north,  wheel, 


M7I 


216 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


fly  west,  wheel  again,  careening  so  that  the  after- 
noon sunlight  flashed  on  every  scarlet  epaulet, 
and  then  fly  southward  and  downward  into  the 
grass.  If  they  had  been  held  equidistant  by  wires 
and  guided  by  one  mind,  they  could  not  have 
moved  with  any  greater  regularity.  At  the  time, 
and  since,  they  have  reminded  me  of  crack  com- 
panies of  infantry  wheeling  at  the  word  of  com- 
mand. I  remember  once,  on  a  March  morning, 
counting  a  flock  of  cedar  birds,  which  alighted 
in  an  ash-tree  by  my  window.  They  all  faced 
in  one  direction,  and  numbered  one  hundred 
and  forty.  As  I  finished  my  count,  it  seemed 
as  though  every  bird  in  the  tree  was  moved  by 
a  single  spring,  for  they  went  off  so  nearly  to- 
gether that  I  was  unable  to  note  the  slightest 
difference  in  their  start. 

There  are  also  birds  which  act  the  part  of 
border  pickets  and  sentries.  The  tyrant  flycatch- 
ers, especially  the  pugnacious  and  keen -eyed 
kingbirds,  are  noted  for  their  readiness  to  warn 
their  neighborhood  of  danger  and  to  engage  an 
intruder  in  single  combat,  no  matter  what  his 
size  or  strength. 

I  have  named  farming  sparrows,  artisan  wood- 
peckers, preaching  vireos,  seafaring  terns,  music- 
loving  thrushes,  frivolous  warblers,  martial  cedar 
birds,  swallows,  and  blackbirds,  and  the  criminal 
owls,  crows,  jays,  and  cowbirds.     It  would  be 


ii 


I 
I 


' 


BIRD   TRAITS. 


217 


i^ood- 
lusic- 
jedar 


im 


al 
a  be 


easy  to  go  on  and  compare  the  humming-bird  to 
a  French  dancing-master,  the  whippoorwill  to  an 
auctioneer,  the  bittern  and  heron  to  a  patient 
angler,  the  woodcock  with  his  bill  in  the  mud  to 
a  tippler  with  his  straw  in  the  cider,  the  bobo- 
link with  his  interminable  and  over-cheerful  talk 
to  a  book  agent  or  drummer.  But  these  minor 
resemblances  are  less  real  and  more  whimsical. 
The  ocean  has  really  modified  the  character  of 
the  gulls  and  grebes,  as  it  has  the  men  and  women 
who  live  upon  it  or  near  it.  Life  in  the  open 
field,  pasture,  and  ploughed  land  has  had  a  cer- 
tain clear  and  distinct  influence  upon  the  spar- 
rows and  finches,  just  as  it  has  had  upon  those 
who  drive  the  harrow  or  sow  the  seed.  But  per- 
haps the  clearest  example  of  all  of  the  influence 
of  environment  is  afforded  by  the  English  spar- 
row, a  bird  which  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  I 
did  not  have  in  mind  when  I  wrote  of  his  Ameri- 
can relatives.  City-bred  man  without  knowledge 
of  lake  and  forest,  mountain  and  ocean,  is  an 
inferior  product  of  the  race ;  but  disagreeable  as 
he  is,  the  city-bred  bird  is  worse.  The  English 
sparrow  stands  to  me  as  the  feathered  embodi- 
ment of  those  instincts  and  passions  which  be- 
long to  the  lowest  class  of  foreign  immigrants. 
The  Chicago  anarchist,  the  New  York  rough, 
the  Boston  pugilist  can  all  be  identified  in  his 
turbulent  and  dirty  society.     He  is  a  bird  of  the 


i 


218 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


city,  rich  in  city  vices,  expedients,  and  miseries. 
The  farmer's  son  who  takes  to  drink  and  the 
East  end  makes  a  hard  character.  The  sparrow 
who  has  taken  to  a  similar  form  of  existence  is 
equally  despicable. 


i:i 


'.^fvS-- 


INDIVIDUALITY  IN   BIRDS. 


Early  in  the  bright,  still  September  morn- 
ing, as  I  lie  hiddc'<  among  the  bushes  which 
fringe  the  shores  of  my  lonely  lake  in  the  birch 
wood,  watching  the  mists  moving  over  the  sur- 
face of  the  water  /  nd  rising  to  obscure  the  trees 
on  the  farther  shore,  I  hear  i  sudden  creaking 
of  wings  in  the  air,  and  see  shadows  passing 
swiftly  across  the  water.  Then  there  is  a 
splash,  the  lake  breaks  into  ripples,  frogs  give 
startled  croaks,  and  the  gray  squirrels  in  the 
oaks  cease  frolicking,  and  hide  themselves  in  the 
armpits  of  great  limbs,  waiting  for  fresh  signs 
of  danger.  A  fleet  has  been  launched  upon  the 
lake,  and,  in  proud  array,  it  stands  away  across 
the  mist-hung  ripples.  Six  trim  little  craft  in 
close  order  plough  the  deep.  Why  is  it  that  I 
have  to  lie  very  still,  as  I  watch  this  energetic 
squadron  at  its  sunrise  manoeuvres  ?  Why  can 
I  not  stand  upon  the  sand  and  wave  my  friendly 
welcome  to  the  beautiful  wood  ducks  which 
have  come  to  my  lake  ?  I  should  love  to  call 
them  to  me,  feed  them,  caress  their  exquisite 
plumage,  and  marvel  at  the  play  of  color  in 


220 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


!i 


11 


their  lustrous  feathers  ;  but  were  I  to  move  a 
hand  so  that  their  keen  eyes  saw  it,  or  to  snap  a 
stick  so  that  their  keener  ears  heard  it,  their 
wings  would  pound  the  water  into  foam,  and  in 
one  brief  moment  all  their  grace  and  beauty 
would  have  vanished  from  my  sight. 

When  the  first  snow  falls  upon  the  frozen 
November  pastures,  burying  the  dry  grass  and 
brown  ferns,  and  leaving  only  the  ghost-flowers 
of  goldenrod,  aster,  and  fireweed,  fox-tracks  are 
many  upon  the  telltale  carpet  of  winter.  They 
begin  upon  the  flanks  of  Chocoraa,  or  away  to 
the  west  among  the  boulders  on  Great  Hill  and 
Marston  Hill,  where  the  battle  of  the  wolves 
was  fought  long  ago,  and  come  southward  or 
eastward  through  birch  \\rood  and  pasture,  larch 
grove  and  swamp,  to  the  lakeside  and  meadow. 
Many  a  mile  every  hungry  son  of  Reynard 
travels  over  that  first  snow,  searching  for  mice 
or  a  plump  blue  jay  to  pounce  upon.  If,  as  I 
lean  upon  a  great  gray  boulder  in  the  middle  of 
the  wide  upland  pasture,  I  see  a  slender,  sharp- 
eared  fox  trottiiig  towards  me,  can  I  whistle  to 
him  as  to  a  dog,  and  tempt  hira  to  me  by  hold- 
ing up  to  him  the  mouse  I  have,  just  taken  from 
my  trap  ?  With  the  speed  of  a  tliought  he  will 
dash  from  me  towards  yonder  beech  wood ;  at 
its  edge  he  will  pause  for  one  last  look  of  hatred 
and  terror,  and  then  silence  and  the  snow  will 


INDIVIDUALITY  IN  BIRDS. 


221 


ove  a 
nap  a 
their 
md  in 
)eauty 

frozen 
IS  and 
lowers 
ks  are 
They 
way  to 
11  and 
wolves 
ard  or 
»  larch 
eadow. 
eynard 
r  mice 
f ,  as  I 
(He  of 
sharp- 
Istle  to 
hold- 
from 
e  will 
d;  at 
hatred 
w  will 


seem  to  deny  his  ever  having  been  within  their 
dominion.  Why  does  he  shun  me,  when  I  have 
never  harmed  him,  and  would  not  have  harmed 
him  had  he  come  to  me  ? 

If  I  steal  ever  so  softly  to  the  mossy  bank  of 
the  meadow  brook,  and  peep  through  the  ferns 
into  the  deep  pool  overhung  by  the  thick  turf, 
the  wary  trout  which  lies  poised  in  the  cool  cur- 
rent, with  filmy  fins  pulsating,  will  see  me,  and 
seeing,  strain  every  muscle  of  his  marvelous 
form  to  hurl  himself  from  me  into  some  hidden 
g.^otto  far  down  the  stream.  If  a  butterfly, 
opening  and  shutting  its  yellow  wings  on  the 
milkweed  flower,  sees  my  shadow  creeping  to- 
wards it,  the  golden  wings  will  move  with  vehe- 
ment power,  and,  high  above  me  in  the  August 
sunlight  the  distrustful  insect  will  linger,  bid- 
ding me  by  its  restless  unhappiness  depart  from 
its  milkweed. 

By  night,  as  by  day,  the  life  of  the  forest,  the 
field,  and  the  water  shuns  me.  The  bat,  which 
flits  back  and  forth  with  crazy  flight  above  the 
lake,  avoids  me ;  the  hare,  leaping  lazily  through 
the  grass  where  the  moonl:ght  sparkles  in  the 
dew,  bounds  from  me,  panic-stricken  ;  the  owl, 
with  silent  wing,  floats  from  me  down  the  forest 
aisles,  and  hoots  no  more.  What  have  I  done 
that  creation  shoiUd  spurn  me  as  a  leper,  and 
that  all  which  is  most  beautiful  in  animal  life 


m 


222 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


should  hasten  from  me  as  from  death?     The 
answer  is  plain :  my  crime  is  that  I  am  a  man. 


11 


There  are  hundreds  of  intelligent  men  and 
women  in  New  England  who  do  not  know  a 
bluebird  from  a  blue  jay,  a  chickadee  from  a 
junco,  a  catbird  from  a  cow  bunting.  They 
know  them  all  as  birds,  and  love  them  as  such, 
after  a  vague  fashion,  but  of  the  racial  or  spe- 
cific characteristics  of  these  charming  creatures 
they  know  nothing.  What,  then,  will  they  say 
to  the  avowal  that  not  only  do  species  of  birds 
differ  from  one  another,  as  Irishmen  differ  from 
Swedes,  and  Spaniards  from  Chinese,  but  that 
individual  birds  of  the  same  species  have,  in 
proportion  to  the  sum  total  of  their  character- 
istics, as  much  variation  ««  individual  men? 
Of  course,  there  is  not  nearly  the  same  chance 
for  individuality  in  birds  as  in  men,  for  their 
methods  of  life  and  their  mental  qualities  are 
simple,  while  those  of  men  are  complex. 

To  the  wood  ducks,  the  fox,  the  trout,  and 
the  butterfly  I  am  merely  a  man,  one  of  that 
horrible  race  of  gigantic  destroyers  which  occu- 
pies the  land  and  the  water,  and,  with  merciless 
hand,  traps,  maims,  or  kills  with  indiscrimi- 
nate cruelty.  For  centuries,  all  that  dwells 
within  the  woods  or  beside  the  waters  has  held 
firmly  to  life  in  direct  proportion  to  its  distrust 


INDIVIDUALITY  IN  BIRDS. 


223 


of  man  and  its  ability  to  elude  him.  No  wonder 
that,  to  the  bird,  a  man  is  merely  a  man.  The 
preponderance  of  evil  in  man's  treatment  of  the 
lower  animals  makes  it  impossible  for  wood 
duck,  fox,  or  trout  to  delay  flight  to  determine 
whether  the  individual  man  who  appears  by  the 
lake  or  in  the  pasture  is  impelled  by  kindness  or 
by  a  desire  to  commit  murder. 

Those  who  know  birds  only  as  birds,  without 
separating  them  into  races,  species,  or  individu- 
als, have  no  such  excuse  to  offer  for  their  failure 
to  distinguish  and  appreciate.  They  are  not 
hunted  to  death  by  the  fair  creatures  which  peo- 
ple the  wild  world  around  them.  They  have 
ample  time  and  more  than  ample  provocation  to 
learn  something  of  these  shy,  sweet  neighbors. 
No  lifetime  is  long  enough  to  learn  all  about 
even  one  bird ;  but  there  are  few  men  who  do 
not  sometimes  pass  beyond  the  limits  of  brick 
walls  and  cobblestone  pavements,  and  whenever 
they  do  pass  such  limits  the  birds  are  with  them. 
In  our  own  Boston,  gulls,  crows,  and  several 
kinds  of  ducks  are  constantly  present  along  the 
water's  edge,  between  late  autumn  and  spring. 
The  Common  and  weed-grown  vacant  lots  are 
not  owned  by  house  sparrows  alone,  conspicuous 
as  those  immigrants  are.  A  Sunday  afternoon 
in  May  spent  in  the  groves  and  fields  of  the 
suburbs  gives   acquaintance   with  more  species 


224 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


k 


than  there  are  hours  in  the  day,  and  close  watch 
for  an  hour  of  any  one  bird  may  yield  a  fact 
which  no  naturalist  has  ever  recorded. 

I  havt.  a  friend  who  lives  alone,  summer  and 
winter,  in  a  tiny  hut  amid  the  woods.  The  doc- 
tors told  him  that  he  must  die,  so  he  escaped 
from  them  to  nature,  made  his  peace  with  her, 
and  regain  1  his  health.  To  the  wild  creatures 
of  the  pasture,  the  oak  woods,  and  the  swamps 
he  is  no  longer  a  man,  but  a  faun  ;  he  is  one  of 
their  own  kind,  shy,  alert,  silent.  They,  having 
learned  to  trust  him,  have  come  a  little  nearer 
to  men.  I  once  went  to  his  hut  when  he  was 
absent,  and  stretched  myself  in  the  sunlight 
by  his  tiny  doorstep.  Presently  two  chickadees 
came  to  a  box  of  birdseed  swinging  from  the 
pine  limb  overhead,  and  fed  there,  cracking  the 
seeds  one  by  one  with  their  bills.  Then,  from 
the  swamp,  a  pair  of  catbirds  appeared,  and  fed 
upon  crumbs  scattered  over  the  ground  just  at 
my  feet ;  a  chipmunk  ran  back  and  forth  past 
them,  coming  almost  within  reach  of  my  hand ; 
soon  after  a  song  sparrow  drove  away  the  cat- 
birds, and  then  sang  a  little  sotto  voce  song  to 
me  before  helping  itself  to  the  crumbs.  When 
my  friend  returned,  he  told  me  the  story  of  this 
song  sparrow ;  how  he  had  saved  its  life,  and 
been  rewarded  by  three  years  of  gratitude,  confi- 
dence, and  affection  on  the  part  of  the  brave  littlo 


INDIVIDUALITY  IN  BIRDS. 


225 


iving 
earer 
3  was 
ilight 
adees 
3  the 
the 
rom 
fed 
ist  at 
past 
and; 
cat- 
g  to 
l^hen 
this 
and 
onfi- 
littlo 


bird.  He  seemed  fearful  lest  I  should  think  him 
over-imaginative  in  his  recital,  so  he  gave  me  de- 
tails about  the  sparrow  and  its  ways  which  woidd 
have  convinced  a  jury  of  the  bird's  identity  and 
strong  individuality.  The  secret  of  my  friend's 
friendship  with  these  birds  was  that,  by  living 
together,  each  had,  by  degrees,  learned  to  know 
the  other.  A  man  had  become  the  man,  and  in 
time  he  had  developed  into  protector,  provider, 
and  companion.  They,  from  being  chickadees, 
catbirds,  and  song  sparrow,  had  separated  them- 
selves from  their  several  species,  and,  by  little 
habits  and  peculiarities  of  color,  had  made 
themselves  plainly  recognizable  as  individuals, 
having  v^haracteristics  not  common  to  all  their 
species. 

It  is  easier  to  feel  sure  that  these  individual 
peculiarities  of  a  bird  are  real  if  the  bird  is  a 
captive,  or  if,  as  a  wild  bird,  it  is  marked  in 
some  unmistakable  way.  My  chief  experience 
with  birds  of  whose  identity  I  could  feel  no 
doubt  while  watching  them,  hearing  their  voices, 
or  seeing  their  pictures,  has  been  with  a  number 
of  owls  which  I  have  retained  as  captives  for 
various  terms  of  months  or  years.  To  a  stran- 
ger, these  birds  would  be  quite  indistinguishable 
both  from  one  another  and  from  wild  birds  of 
the  same  species.  He  would  notice  only  the 
points  of  resemblance,  the  marks  by  which  he 


226 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


I 


determined  their  species.  I  should  notice  only 
their  points  of  difference;  and  I  should  find 
among  such  points  color,  size,  posture,  gesture, 
expression,  and  manner.  Not  only  would  these 
points  make  it  impossible  for  me  to  mistake  one 
owl  for  another,  but  they  would  give  me  some 
passing  impression  as  to  the  bird's  temper  at  the 
moment ;  for  a  placid,  sleepy,  well-fed  owl  is  a 
very  different  bird  from  the  same  owl  irritable, 
wide  awake,  and  starving,  after  a  three  days' 
fast. 

We  distinguish  members  of  our  family  or  of 
our  circle  of  acquaintances  one  from  another  by 
the  differences  in  their  figures,  features,  and 
dress ;  the  motions  they  make,  the  sounds  they 
utter ;  their  conduct,  opinions,  tempers,  appe- 
tites, virtues,  and  failings.  I  distinguish  my 
three  barred  owls  from  one  another  by  slight 
differences  in  size,  in  coloration,  attitude,  mo- 
tions, notes,  temper,  appetite,  and  degrees  of 
intelligence.  They  are  not  always  in  the  same 
plumage  ;  their  appetites  vary  ;  they  make  dif- 
ferent sounds  u^der  different  conditions ;  and 
the  one  which  is  most  docile  in  midwinter  may, 
when  moulting,  be  most  irritable  and  prone  to 
bite.  One  of  them  almost  always  whines  when 
I  approach  his  cage  ;  the  other  two  never  whine 
unless  unusually  hungry.  One  comes  to  me 
when  I  call  him,  provided  he  thinks  he  is  to  be 


!*l 


INDIVIDUALITY  IN  BIRDS. 


227 


mo- 

of 

same 

dif- 

and 

fnay, 

to 

vhen 

liine 

me 

be 


fed ;  the  other  two  have  never  learned  their 
names.  One  is  a  coward,  and  always  seeks 
safety  in  swift  escape  when  any  danger  threat- 
ens, while  his  original  nest  companion  is  as 
brave  as  a  lion.  I  once  placed  the  latter  in 
a  small  room  with  two  hounds.  The  dogs  ad- 
vanced towards  the  owl  with  faces  expressive 
of  great  curiosity.  The  owl  spread  his  broad 
wings,  ruffled  the  feathers  upon  his  back, 
snapped  his  beak,  and  then,  as  the  dogs  came 
nearer,  darted  at  them,  drove  them  under  a  sofa, 
and  held  them  at  bay  until  they  were  thankful 
to  be  allowed  to  slink  out  by  a  back  door.  No- 
thing wou\l  induce  either  dog  to  return  to  the 
room  that  day. 

These  three  barred  owls  were  reared  in  the 
same  nest,  two  in  1888,  the  third  in  1891.  They 
were  all  taken  from  the  nest  before  they  could 
fly,  and  they  have  been  subjected  to  the  same 
conditions  while  in  captivity.  So  far  as  I  know, 
they  are  of  the  same  sex.  In  spite  of  these 
facts,  they  are  no  more  alike  than  three  dogs 
raised  in  the  same  kennels,  three  horses  pas- 
tured in  the  same  field,  or  three  urchins  starved 
and  whipped  in  the  same  tenement  house.  They 
are  not  equally  hungry,  sleepy,  or  skillful  in 
striking  living  game  ;  they  are  not  equally  fond 
of  sunlight  or  darkness ;  they  select  different 
perches,  and  look  at  life  and   their  master  in 


228 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


three  very  different  ways.  In  fact,  they  are  in- 
dividuals, not  three  dittos  to  the  name  "  barred 
owl." 

One  summer  I  caught  and  caged  three  young 
sap-sucking  woodpeckers,  as  they  were  prepar- 
ing to  fly  from  their  ancestral  castle  tower  in 
the  Chocorua  forest.  It  might  fairly  be  pre- 
sumed that  three  birds  just  out  of  the  nest,  and 
that  nest  a  dark  hole  far  up  in  a  poplar  trunk, 
would  be  as  nearly  alike  as  three  dimes  from 
the  same  mint.  The  opposite  was  true.  Num- 
ber One  was  a  hardy  bird,  which  flew  the  mo- 
ment the  axe  was  struck  into  the  poplar's  bole. 
Number  Three  was  a  weakling,  that  stayed  in 
the  hole  until  pulled  out  by  hand.  So  it  was 
later,  as  they  grew  older  and  larger.  One  was 
a  bully,  with  a  loud  voice  and  too  much  animal 
spirits  for  the  size  of  his  cage.  Another  was 
quiet,  meditative,  and  fond  of  a  sunny  corner  of 
his  box.  In  the  autumn,  when  I  let  the  birds 
out  to  frolic  in  a  barn  chamber,  this  quiet  bird 
was  always  the  last  to  quit  his  perch  in  favor  of 
half-freedom.  Number  Three  continued  to  be 
the  smallest,  weakest,  and  least  hungry  of  the 
three  birds  ;  but  she  was  quicker  than  Number 
Two,  and  seemed  to  get  more  out  of  life  than  he 
did.  From  the  hour  when  I  took  these  little 
birds  away  from  their  nest,  I  never  failed  to 
recognize  each  of  them  as  having  individual 
characteristics  not  possessed  by  the  others. 


HI 


INDIVIDUALITY  IN  BIRDS. 


229 


in 


of 
be 
;he 

ber 
he 

ttle 
to 

ual 


The  wild  sap-sucking  woodpeckers  in  the  New 
Hampshire  forests  derive  the  chief  of  their  diet 
from  the  sap  of  the  common  deciduous  trees. 
Attacking  the  trees  in  April,  often  before  the 
snow  has  wholly  disappeared  from  the  shady 
hollows  and  north  slopes,  they  riddle  the  bark 
with  dozens  of  small  holes,  from  which  the  sap 
flows  freely.  Red  squirrels,  downy  woodpeck- 
ers, and  humming-birds  like  this  flowing  sap 
quite  as  well  as  do  the  sapsuckers,  and  they 
frequent  the  "  orchards  "  more  or  less  persist- 
ently. No  stronger  proof  of  individual  differ- 
ences in  bird  character  has  come  to  my  notice 
than  that  afforded  by  the  opposite  kinds  of 
treatment  accorded  the  pilfering  humming-birds 
by  various  families  of  sapsuckers.  At  some 
*  orchards  it  is  only  necessary  for  a  humming- 
bird to  be  heard  approaching  the  trees  for  the 
woodpeckers  to  be  on  the  watch,  ready  to  drive 
the  intruder  away.  Fierce  attacks  are  made 
upon  the  little  birds,  and  they  are  never  per- 
mitted to  drink  at  the  sap  holes  if  woodpeckers 
arc  on  guard.  At  other  orchards  the  opposite 
is  the  rule,  and  a  favorite  humming-bird  is 
allowed  to  drink  when  and  where  he  i)leases, 
provided  he  does  not  .actually  buzz  in  the  face  of 
his  host,  and  attempt  to  sip  from  the  cup  in  use. 
This  difference  in  the  treatment  of  the  liummin";- 
birds  is  not  a  matter  of  daily  whim,  but  is  tho 


WiWMt-MIMm^ 


230 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


rule  throughout  successive  seasons.  I  say  this 
after  having,  by  close  watch  of  certain  orchards, 
convinced  myself  that  not  only  the  same  wood- 
j)eckers,  but  the  same  hmnraing-birds,  return  to 
particular  groups  of  trees  year  after  year. 

Once,  on  an  August  day,  as  I  sat  working  at 
the  north  door  of  my  big  barn,  near  the  foot  of 
Chocorua,  a  small  bird  came  hopping  and  flutter- 
ing towards  me.  As  it  drew  near  I  saw  that  it 
was  a  young  redstart,  somewhat  raggedly  clad. 
The  little  creature  was  catching  tiny  flies  and 
other  insects,  and  seemed  completely  absorbed  in 
its  occupation,  to  the  exclusion  of  fear  or  even 
ordinary  caution.  Presently  it  entered  the  barn, 
and  hopped  back  and  forth  between  the  horse's 
heels,  as  he  stood  and  stamped  in  his  stall.  Then 
it  crossed  the  floor  to  me,  and  perched  for  a  mo- 
ment on  my  foot.  I  caught  it,  and  it  sat  upon 
my  hand  fearlessly,  going  because  a  passing  fly 
drew  it  from  me.  Finally  it  continued  its  course 
through  the  south  door  into  the  wide  sunshine 
beyond,  and  so  away  forever.  Truly,  that  tiny 
redstart  was  unlike  all  others  of  its  species  which 
I  have  seen,  or  ever  expect  to  see.  Daft  it  may 
have  been,  but  it  did  me  more  good  than  fifty 
sane  warblers. 

Less  clear  evidence  of  individuality  in  birds 
comes  in  the  way  of  every  observer  many  times 
during  each  year.     Spring  after  spring  birds  re- 


INDIVIDUALITY  IN  BIRDS. 


231 


)irds 
imes 
Is  re- 


turn to  favorite  nesting-places,  and  autumn  after 
autumn  migrants  appear  on  favorite  hunting 
grounds :  sometimes  we  feel  sure  that  the  robins 
which  return  to  the  apple-tree,  the  bluebirds  to 
the  box  on  the  post,  the  orioles  to  the  trailing 
elm  branch,  are  the  same  birds  which  built  in 
those  spots  in  preceding  summers  ;  but,  as  a  rule, 
positive  evidence  to  this  effect  is  lacking,  and 
our  moral  certainty  is  not  capable  of  justification 
to  others.  Generally  the  fact  which  makes  us 
most  sure  in  our  own  minds  that  the  birds  in 
question  are  old  friends  is  some  hint  of  individ- 
uality on  their  part.  They  arrive  on  a  fixed  date 
in  the  spring,  build  their  nest  in  a  particular 
spot  or  in  a  particular  way ;  and  the  exactness 
of  the  coincidence  induces  us  to  believe  in  indi- 
viduality, rather  than  in  the  nature  of  all  birds 
of  a  species  to  do  precisely  the  same  thing  under 
similar  circumstances. 

Where  there  is  a  wide  variety  in  the  nesting 
ways  of  a  species,  the  ability  to  fix  upon  certain 
birds  and  feel  confident  of  their  identity  is  in- 
creased. For  example,  I  have  known  the  song 
sparrow  to  build  upon  the  ground  in  the  middle 
of  a  dry  field,  or  close  to  a  tussock  of  grass  at  a 
brookside ;  a  few  inches  from  the  ground,  in  a 
pile  of  brush  in  a  meadow ;  in  a  dark  pocket  in 
the  hollow  trunk  of  a  willow  ;  two  feet  from  the 
ground,  in  a  spruce  ;  and  finally,  eight  feet  above 


r 


Ill 

II 


a 


232 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


the  ground,  in  a  cup-shaped  hollow  in  a  birch 
stump.  It  is  evident  that  a  species  which  varies 
the  location  of  its  home  ns  widely  as  this  must 
contain  individuals  which  have  their  power  of 
selection  highly  developed.  The  kingfisher's  in- 
stinct takes  him  to  a  gravel  bank,  in  the  face  of 
which  he  digs  a  hole.  He  is  satisfied  with  one 
set  of  conditions,  and  those  conditions  are  simple 
in  kind.  The  song  sparrow,  which  builds  in  a 
hollow  willow,  or  in  a  depression  in  a  high  stump, 
has  not  been  satisfied  with  simple  conditions,  but 
has  exercised  her  power  of  selection  to  a  remark- 
able degree  in  finally  choosing  very  unusual  sur- 
roundings for  her  home. 

Much  as  birds  of  a  species  resemble  one  an- 
other, every  collecting  ornithologist  knows  how 
rare  it  is  to  iind  two  individuals  whose  colora- 
tion and  measurements  correspond  exactly.  In 
series  containing  hundreds  of  specimens  of  the 
same  species,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  find  two 
skins  which  agree  so  closely  as  to  be  indistin- 
guishable. Moreover,  in  such  extended  series, 
it  is  common  to  find  specimens  which  vary  in  a 
radical  way  from  the  average.  Not  only  does 
albinism  occur,  but  other  unusual  features  ap- 
pear in  color  and  form  in  a  way  to  suggest  rever- 
sion to  some  earlier  stage  in  the  development  of 
the  species.  For  example,  I  have  seen  several 
specimens  of  the  cedar  bird  which  had  white 


INDIVIDUALITY  IN  BIRDS. 


233 


markings  of  9.  kind  to  suggest  at  once  a  common 
ancestor  to  both  cedar  bird  and  Bohemian  wax- 
wing.  Differentiation  increased  the  white  phim- 
age  in  the  Bohemians,  and  allowed  it  to  disap- 
pear in  the  cedar  birds. 

So  sharp  are  the  distinguishing  lines  of  color 
between  desert  races  of  birds  and  mammals  and 
races  living  amid  verdure  that  it  is  natural  to 
surmise  that  habits  and  conduct  may  also  be  con- 
siderably modified  by  arid  surroundings.  Taken 
as  a  great  group,  birds  which  live  upon  the  sea 
are  certainly  very  difftsrent  from  typical  forest 
birds.  Sea  birds'  voices,  when  they  use  them, 
are  harsh  and  shrill,  and  they  can  scarcely  bo 
said  to  have  a  suggestion  of  song  in  their  vocal 
performances.  Nearly  all  land  birds  have  music 
in  their  natures.  If  they  cannot  sing,  they  at 
least  try  to  play.  The  grouse,  the  woodpeckers, 
the  snipe,  the  woodcock,  the  bittern,  are  all  in- 
strumentalists. Land  birds  which  sing,  like  the 
thrushes,  the  purple  finch,  fox  sparrow,  ruby- 
crowned  kinglet,  orchard  oriole,  water  thrush, 
and  other  brilliant  performers,  are  well  known 
to  vary  in  the  individual  success  of  their  efforts. 
Now  and  then  I  hear  a  song  sparrow  or  a  hermit 
thrush  which  sings  so  much  better  than  its  fel- 
lows that  I  return  to  it  day  after  day,  to  listen 
to  it  as  to  a  Nilsson  or  a  Scalchi. 

K  I,  with  dull  human  ears,  can  detect  the  dif- 


$ 


n  J! 


i,     il 


:  I 


234 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


f erences  in  birds'  songs,  how  much  more  quickly 
can  the  birds  themselves  distinguish  one  an- 
other's voices  I  Watch  a  nestf  ul  of  fledgelings 
whose  eyes  are  incapable  of  distinct  sight,  and 
one  of  the  first  facts  to  be  noted  will  be  the  sud- 
den excitement  of  the  young  when  the  parent 
bird,  in  returning,  comes  within  a  few  rods  of 
the  nest.  The  clamor  of  the  young  can  be  in- 
stantly silenced  by  a  note  of  alarm  from  the  par- 
ent, while  no  other  sound  in  the  neighborhood 
will  check  their  glad  uproar.  Among  full-grown 
birds,  similar  notes  of  warning  are  vi^onderfully 
effective.  Crows  chortling  together  in  the  woods 
will  be  quieted  and  called  to  wing  by  a  single 
hoarse  "  caw  "  from  their  sentinel.  A  flock  of 
blue  jays,  feeding  in  the  oaks,  will  scatter  like 
leaves  in  the  wind  at  hearing  a  cry  of  alarm  from 
one  of  their  number.  I  never  see  or  hear  a  crow 
"  caucus  "  without  feeling  sure  that  certain  indi- 
viduals have  more  weight  in  the  assembly  than 
others,  and  that  their  cawing  means  something  to 
their  fellows.  Of  course,  these  indications  of  the 
appreciation  of  individuality  by  some  birds  in 
dealing  with  their  mates  are  vague  and  unsatis- 
factory as  compared  with  the  more  direct  evi- 
dence afforded  by  personally  watching  captive 
birds  until  their  characters  are  thoroughly 
learned. 

Two  great-horned  owls  which  I  owned  for  a 


INDIVIDUALITY  IN  BIRDS. 


235 


few  months  were  so  radically  different  in  temper 
that  every  one  who  came  near  them  recognized 
the  fact.  One  was  quiet,  dignified,  and  compar- 
atively tractable ;  the  other  was  belligerent,  cross, 
and  untamable.  To  my  eyes,  the  expressions  of 
their  faces  were  as  different  as  they  would  have 
been  in  two  persons  of  opposite  temperaments. 
That  this  difference  in  bird  faces  is  real,  and  not 
based  upon  the  circumstances  of  the  moment,  ac- 
cidents of  position  and  color,  or  my  own  state  of 
mind,  seems  to  me  to  be  established  by  the  fact 
that,  in  a  series  of  photographs  of  my  barred 
owls,  taken  at  different  periods,  the  identity  of 
each  owl  in  a  picture  is  as  evident  to  me,  and  to 
others  who  know  the  birds  intimately,  as  though 
they  were  men  and  women  instead  of  birds. 

With  me,  belief  in  the  individuality  of  birds 
is  a  powerful  influence  against  their  destruction. 
Like  most  men  familiar  with  out  of  door  life,  I 
have  the  hunting  instinct  strongly  developed. 
If  a  game  bird  is  merely  one  of  an  abundant 
species,  killing  it  is  only  reducing  the  supply  of 
that  species  by  one  ;  if,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  pos- 
sessed of  novel  powers,  or  a  unique  combination 
of  powers,  and  can  be  distinguished  from  all  its 
fellows,  killing  it  is  destroying  something  which 
cannot  be  replaced.  No  one  with  a  conscience 
would  extinguish  a  species,  yet  I  already  feel  to- 
wards certain  races  that  their  individuals  are  as 


m 


236 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


different  from  one  another  as  I  formerly  sup- 
posed one  species  of  bird  to  be  from  another. 
At  one  time  I  should  have  shot  a  barred  owl 
without  a  twinge  of  conscience ;  now  I  should 
as  soon  shoot  my  neighbor's  Skye  terrier  as  kill 
one  of  these  singularly  attractive  birds. 

Sentiment  aside,  bird  individuality,  if  real, 
is  of  deep  scientific  interest.  If  we  knew  more 
of  the  influence  of  individuals,  we  might  have  a 
clearer  perception  of  the  forces  governing  evolu- 
tion. Serious  science  is  now  so  fully  given  up 
to  laboratory  as  distinguished  from  field  study 
that  but  little  thought  is  given  to  problems  of 
this  kind.  This  fact  makes  it  all  the  more  pos- 
sible for  amateurs  to  work  happily  in  the  woods 
and  fields,  encouraged  by  the  belief  that  they 
have  innumerable  discoveries  still  to  make, 
countless  secrets  of  nature  still  to  fathom. 


BIRDS   AT   YULE-TIDE. 


I. 


SUNLIGHT. 

At  the  northern  end  of  the  wren  orchard  there 
is  an  angle  in  the  stone  wall  where  the  autumn 
winds  pile  dry  leaves.     The  wall  at  this  point  is 
five  feet  high    and  very  thick,    and  no  breeze 
finds  a  way  through  it.     Above  and  behind  the 
wall  a  dozen  or  more  ancient  white  pines  rise 
high  into  the  air,  cutting  off   all  view  of  the 
northern  sky ;  but  southward   the  orchard  falls 
away  in  grassy  terraces,  and  through  the  vistas 
between  the  old  gray  trunks  and  tangled  branches 
far   glimpses  of    Cambridge   and  the    Charles 
River  meadows  greet  the  eye.     Christmas,  1892, 
had  come  and  gone,  but  New  Year's  Day  was 
still  in  the  future.     There  were  snow  banks  in 
the  shadows,  and  back  of  the  wall,  under  the 
pines,  the  north  wind  bustled  about  on  winter 
errands.     Weary  with  a  long  walk,  I  had  sunk 
deep  into  the  dry  leaves  on  the  sunny  side  of  the 
wall,  and  had  found  them  warm  and  comforting. 
The  sun's  rays  had  brought  heat,  and  the  brown 
leaves  had  taken   it  and  kept  it  safely  in  their 
dry  depths. 


I' 


238 


FEOM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


At  first,  as  I  lay  there,  the  world  seemed  life- 
less, so  utterly  silent  was  it.  No  insect's  wing 
gleamed  in  the  smilight,  no  squirrel  ran  on  the 
wall,  no  bird  spoke  in  the  treetops.  There  are 
wonderfully  still  moments  in  midsummer,  when 
the  breeze  dies  away,  the  sun's  rays  glow  like 
fire  in  the  lake,  and  the  birds  sit  motionless 
and  drowsy  in  the  thickets.  In  those  moments, 
however,  the  watchful  eye  can  always  see  the 
dragon-fly  darting  back  and  forth  over  the  water, 
the  inch-worm  reaching  out  its  aimless  and  in- 
quiring arm  from  the  tip  of  a  grass  stalk,  or  the 
ant  marching  back  and  forth  with  endless  pa- 
tience under  the  stubble  forests.  Still  and  seem- 
ingly dead  as  was  this  winter  morning,  I  had 
faith  that  if  I  listened  attentively  enough  some 
voice  would  come  to  me  out  of  the  silence ;  and 
sure  enough,  as  soon  as  my  presence  was  forgot- 
ten, two  or  three  golden-crested  kinglets  began 
lisping  to  each  other  in  the  nearest  cedars. 
Soon  they  came  into  view,  hovering,  fluttering, 
clinging,  among  the  evergreen  branches ;  some- 
times head  downwards,  often  sideways,  always 
busy  clearing  the  foliage  of  its  insect  dwellers. 

While  I  was  watching  these  tiny  workers,  now 
and  then  catching  a  glimpse  of  their  bright  yel- 
low crown-patches,  I  saw  a  much  larger  bird 
alight  in  a  leafless  ash-tree  about  fifty  feet  from 
me,  near  the  orchard  wall.     The  next  moment 


Tf' 


BIRDS  AT   YULE-TIDE 


239 


ttie  harsh  cry  of  a  jay  came  through  the  still  air, 
and  as  I  brought  my  glass  to  bear  on  the  visitor 
I  expected  to  recognize  the  gay  plumage  of  the 
crow's  festive  cousin.  The  bird  in  focus  was 
no  jay :  that  was  clear  at  first  glance.  It  was 
shorter  than  a  blue  jay  by  two  inches  or  more ; 
it  was  not  blue,  and  its  head  was  not  crested. 
Presently  another  bird  of  the  same  species  joined 
the  first  comer,  and  the  two  sat  quietly  in  the 
bare  tree,  doing  nothing.  Far  away  a  flicker 
called,  and  then  in  the  pines  the  clear  jy^oi-he  of 
>  the  titmouse  came  like  a  whiff  of  perfume.  One 
of  the  strange  birds  dropped  suddenly  to  the  foot 
of  the  tree,  and  began  moving  over  a  broad  snow 
bank  which  lay  in  the  shadow  cast  by  the  wall 
and  a  bunch  of  privet  and  barberry.  The  snow 
was  sprinkled  with  the  winged  seeds  of  the  ash, 
and  the  bird  picked  these  up  one  by  one,  neatly 
freed  each  seed  from  its  membrane,  and  swal- 
lowed it. 

While  the  bird  remained  in  shadow  she  looked 
gray ;  but  whenever  the  sunlight  struck  her,  rich 
olive  tones  glowed  upon  her  head,  back,  and 
rump,  while  traces  of  the  same  coloring  showed 
upon  her  breast.  Beautiful  water  -  markings 
rippled  from  her  neck  downward  over  her  back. 
Her  wings  were  dark  ashy  gray  marked  by  two 
white  wing  bars  and  white  edgings  to  the  stiff 
feathers,  and  under  each  eye  a  white  line  was 


ii 


1^ 


240 


FliOM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


noticeable.  Her  feet  showed  black  against  the 
snow,  in  which  they  moved  regardless  of  cold  or 
dampness.  The  bird  in  the  tree  was  not  favor- 
ably placed  for  me  to  see  his  colors,  so,  rising 
softly  from  my  leaf-bed,  I  moved  silently  towards 
him  until  he  came  against  a  dark  background. 
Slowly  raising  my  glass,  I  leveled  it  upon  him, 
and  brought  out  to  my  admiring  eyes  the  exquis- 
ite tints  of  his  plumage.  Where  his  mate  had 
glowed  with  olive,  he  blushed  with  rosy  carmine. 
Head,  nape,  rump,  throat,  and  breast  alike  were 
suffused  with  warm,  lustrous  color.  Here  and 
there,  white,  gray,  and  ash  struggled  for  a  share 
in  his  dress,  but  the  carmine  outshone  them. 
There  could  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  birds'  iden- 
tity, —  they  were  a  pair  of  pine  grosbeaks. 

My  approach  to  a  point  not  more  than  twenty 
foet  from  the  feeding  bird  did  not  disturb  her. 
She  watched  me  closely,  but  continued  to  gather 
tVie  ash  seeds.  At  times  she  even  ran  towards 
me  a  foot  or  two.  Suddenly  a  dark  shadow 
crossed  the  snowdrift,  and  both  birds  started 
apprehensively,  as  though  to  fly  away ;  but  they 
quickly  regained  their  composure  as  a  ragged- 
winged  crow  sailed  close  above  the  treetops  and 
disappeared  behind  the  hill.  A  nearer  approach 
to  the  birds  showed  me  how  massive  were  their 
bills ;  the  upper  strongly  arched  mandible  form- 
ing a  sharp  hook  far  overhanging  the  blunter 


BIRDS  AT   YULE-TIDE. 


241 


they 
^ed- 
and 
roach 
their 
form- 
unter 


under  one.     Their    tails,  too,  were    noticeable, 
being  plainly  and  quite  deeply  forked. 

Advancing  step  by  step,  I  came  at  last  so 
near  these  confiding  birds  that;  had  they  been 
domestic  fowls,  they  would  have  avoided  me. 
The  one  on  the  ground  flew  into  the  ash-tree, 
and  both  moved  a  little  higher  among  the 
branches  as  I  walked  directly  beneath  them. 
Of  nervous  fear  they  gave  no  sign,  although 
both  uttered  short  musical  notes  in  a  querulous 
tone.  This  trustfulness  is  characteristic  of  many 
of  the  migrants  from  the  far  north  which  sud- 
denly, and  for  causes  not  yet  fully  understood, 
sweep  over  fields  and  forest,  in  midwinter. 
Many  a  time  I  have  stood  beneath  a  slender 
white  birch  in  whose  branches  dozens  of  pine 
siskins  were  resting,  or  redpoll  linnets  feeding. 
I  have  leaned  over  the  upper  rail  of  a  fence  and 
looked  down  upon  red  crossbills  eating  salt  and 
grain  from  a  cattle  trough  on  the  ground  on  the 
other  side  of  the  fence,  while  they  watched  me 
with  their  bright  eyes,  yet  did  not  fly.  Chick- 
adees and  Hudson  Bay  titmice  have  chided  me 
while  they  perched  upon  twigs,  only  a  foot  or 
two  from  my  head;  and  nuthatches,  kinglets, 
purple  finches,  goldfinches,  and  snow  buntings 
have  in  a  less  noticeable  way  shown  far  less  fear 
of  me  than  any  summer  migrant  or  resident  bird 
would  display. 


i 


242 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


II. 


MOONLIGHT. 

Sunset  in  late  December  comes  long  before 
tea  time,  so  I  lingered  in  the  wren  orchard 
while  the  orange  light  came  and  went  in  the 
west,  and  until  the  big  yellow  moon  swung  free 
from  the  eastern  elms,  and  began  her  voyage 
across  the  chilly  sky.  I  had  been  worrying  the 
crows  at  their  roost  in  a  grove  of  pitch  pines 
on  the  very  crest  of  the  Arlington  ridge.  Just 
as  they  skulked  into  the  grove  on  one  side,  I 
glided  in  from  the  other.  Silently  they  floated 
through  the  twilight,  and  gained  a  thickly 
branching  pine.  In  its  upper  foliage  they 
crowded  together  and  prepared  for  sleep.  Then 
they  heard  my  footsteps  on  the  twigs  and  snow 
crust  below,  and  suddenly  a  great  stirring,  and 
rubbing  of  wings  and  twigs  told  of  their  flight. 
At  first  they  said  nothing,  but  when  they  had 
reached  the  upper  air  they  circled  over  the  grove 
cawing  spitefully.  A  small  flock  of  pine  gros- 
beaks dropped  into  the  grove,  and  after  the 
brightest  of  the  golden  light  had  faded  from  be- 
hind far  Wachusett  I  heard  a  small  troop  ol 
kinglets  come  in  for  their  night's  lodging.  The 
crows  came  back  to  their  favorite  tree,  and  when 
I  disturbed  them  a  second  time  nine  of  them 
flew  away  full  of  wrath. 


BIRDS  AT   YULE-TIDE. 


243 


y  had 
grove 
gros- 
er  the 
Dm  be- 
aop  ol 
The 
Iwhen 
them 


Leaving  the  pines  to  darkness  and  its  birds, 
I  came  back  to  the  wren  orchard.  As  I  ran 
through  a  savin-dotted  pasture,  a  lonely  junco 
flew  from  beneath  a  juniper  bush,  and  aliglited 
upon  the  ground.  I  stopped  and  watched  him. 
For  a  while  he  kept  very  still,  but  at  last  he 
showed  his  white  tail  feathers  in  flight,  and  van-  , 
ished  among  the  cedars.  Under  the  cedars  I 
found  a  dead  bird,  lying  on  its  back  upon  the 
snow.  It  was  a  grosbeak,  with  almost  every 
feather,  except  those  on  the  breast,  intact ;  yet, 
strange  to  say,  its  body  had  been  eaten, —  prob- 
ably by  mice,  for  no  creature  less  tiny  could 
have  removed  the  flesh  so  completely  without 
injuring  the  plumage.  I  fear  the  trustfulness 
of  this  gentle  migrant  caused  its  death.  Mice 
can  eat  birds,  but  they  cannot  shoot  them  first. 

The  apple-trees  in  the  wren  orchard  seemed 
even  more  grotesquely  gnarled  as  they  lifted 
their  distorted  limbs  against  the  moonlit  sky 
than  they  had  in  the  pale  winter  sunshine. 
They  are  very  old  trees  for  fruit  trees,  and 
many  a  dark  cavern  in  their  trunks  and  larger 
limbs  offers  shelter  to  owls,  squirrels,  and  mice. 
Leaning  against  one  of  their  broad  trunks,  I  im- 
itated the  attenuated  squeak  made  by  a  mouse. 
Again  and  again  I  drew  breath  through  my 
tightly  closed  and  puckered  lips,  feeling  sure 
that   if   Scops   and  his  appetite  were   in  com- 


244 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


pany  anywhere  within  an  owl's  ear-shot  of  my 
squeaking,  I  should  hear  from  the  little  mouser. 

Once,  twice,  perhaps  three  times,  there  fell 
upon  my  ear  what  seemed  like  the  distant  wail- 
inj^  of  a  child  or  the  faint  whinnying  of  a  horse. 
All  at  once  it  came  over  me  that  the  sound  was 
not  distant,  and  I  held  my  breath  and  listened 
intently.  It  came  again  —  faint,  tremulous,  sad. 
My  ears  declined  to  say  whether  it  came  fifty 
feet  or  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  I  stole  softly  to- 
wards the  point  from  which  it  proceeded,  but 
before  I  had  gone  a  rod  I  heard  the  same  or 
a  similar  sound  on  my  left.  This  time  it  was 
more  distinct,  and  I  knew  it  to  be  the  quaver- 
ing whinny  of  a  screech  owl.  Stooping  to  the 
ground,  I  scanned  the  apple-trees  with  the  white 
sky  for  a  background.  In  the  third  tree  from 
me  I  saw  a  dark  lump  on  a  branch.  I  crept 
towards  it,  and  at  the  first  sound  I  made,  the 
bunch  resolved  itself  into  a  broad-winged  little 
owl,  which  flew  across  to  the  next  tree.  Rising, 
I  walked  straight  towards  it,  until  I  stood  close 
beneath  the  bird,  who  watched  me  without  mov- 
ing. 

Although  I  could  see  only  his  silhouette,  I 
knew  well  what  his  expression  was  like,  having 
had  several  of  his  family  as  pets.  His  feathery 
ear-tufts  were  depressed,  and  his  head  was  set 
down  closely  upon  his  shoulders.     Could  I  have 


BIRDS  AT    YULE  TIDE. 


245 


seen  his  face,  I  should  have  met  an  impish  glare 
in  his  small  yellow  eyes,  and  a  look  about  his 
mouth  suggestive  of  sharp  bites.  The  screech 
owl  fears  the  barred  owl  as  much  as  a  robin 
does  ;  so  when  I  hooted  like  his  big  cousin,  and 
spun  my  hat  into  the  air  over  him,  he  flew  down 
almost  to  the  ground,  made  a  sharp  angle,  and 
rose  into  a  tree  at  a  little  distance.  After  I  had 
followed  him  from  tree  to  tree  for  several  min- 
utes, he  finally  succeeded  in  dodging  me,  and  I 
left  the  orchard  to  the  quiet  of  the  winter's 
night. 

In  the  morning,  when  I  rolled  into  the  pile 
of  leaves  by  the  sunny  side  of  the  wall,  the  day 
seemed  bereft  of  incident  and  color;  but  as  I 
ran  down  the  frozen  hillside,  hurrying  more  to 
T  >gain  warmth  than  to  gain  time,  the  day  ap- 
peared, in  retrospect,  to  be  well  filled  with  inci- 
dent and  life.  Not  only  had  there  been  crows, 
jays,  flickers,  chickadees,  kinglets,  and  a  junco 
busy  about  their  respective  tasks  of  food-finding, 
but  the  charming  pine  grosbeaks  had  gathered 
the  ash  seeds  from  the  snow,  a  few  feet  from 
where,  as  soon  as  moonlight  replaced  sunshine. 
Scops  set  himself  to  gather  his  nightly  harvest 
of  mice.  Vegetation,  as  a  rule,  is  dormant  in 
winter ;  most  of  the  insect  world  selects  winter 
for  its  period  of  repose  and  transformation; 
snow,  ice,  and  lack  of  food  drive  certain  birds 


246 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


into  migration,  and  cause  reptiles  and  a  few  spe- 
ciys  of  mammals  to  hibernate.  Beyond  these 
limits  Nature  keeps  on  her  way  untroubled  ;  and 
even  within  these  limits  there  is  less  stagnation 
than  most  men  suppose.  If  man  were  not  him- 
self so  much  in  dread  of  the  snow,  he  woidd 
not  credit  the  lower  animals  vath  undue  fear  of 
wintry  elements. 


UP  THE   CHIMNEY. 

Lying  flat  upon  my  back  on  my  bedroom 
floor,  with  my  head  in  tlie  fireplace,  pillowed 
upon  the  andirons,  and  my  gaze  directed  in- 
tently up  the  chinmey,  I  watched,  hour  by  hour, 
the  strange  domestic  doings  of  two  of  my  tenants. 
The  fireplace  was  so  arranged,  and  its  opening 
into  the  chimney  so   shaped,  that  I  could  see 
much  of  that  part  of  the  interior  of  the  chimney 
which  rose  above  me,  leading  toward  the  little 
patch  of  blue  sky  far  away.     The  whole  of  the 
west  wall  of  the  black  flue  and  a  little  more 
than  half  of  both  the  north  and  south  walls  were 
visible  to  me.     The  surface  of  these  walls  was 
rough,  having  been  daubed  with  mortar  which 
formed  undulations  and  ridges.   The  lower  faces 
of  these  irregularities  were  soft,  dull  black,  but 
the  parts  inclined  toward  the  sky  caught  the 
glare  of  light  from  above  and  shone  as  though 
ebonized.     About  eight  feet  above  me,  as  I  lay 
in  the  second-story  fireplace,  something  about 
the  size  of  half  a  small  saucer  projected  like  a 
tree  fungus  from  the  northern  wall  of  the  flue. 
Its  edges  gleamed  like  silvery  gelatin,  and  light 


248 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY, 


« 


shone  tlirougli  its  fabric  in  many  places.  This 
fabric  seemed  to  be  made  of  dozens  of  small 
twigs  matted  and  woven  together  in  semi-saucer 
form,  and  held  firmly  in  place  by  some  translu- 
cent, gelatinous  substance  of  a  yellowish-white 
color.  Masses  of  the  same  substance  held  the 
shallow  nest  in  its  place  against  the  hard,  cold 
wall  of  brick  and  mortar.  Protruding  from  the 
nest  were  the  long  and  slender  wings  of  a  bird, 
which  was  sitting  snugly  upon  the  structure, 
with  her  face  turned  directly  to  the  bricks. 
The  tapering  wings  crossed  near  the  body,  and 
their  tips  spread  like  a  Y,  under  whicli  a  short, 
stii¥,  fan-shaped  tail  extended  for  a  part  of  the 
distance  covered  by  the  wings.  These  stiff  tail 
feathers,  kept  spread  all  the  time,  terminated  in 
sharp  spines,  readily  discernible.  Occasionally, 
as  I  watched,  the  sitting  bird  wriggled  on  her 
nest,  and  her  wings  moved  restlessly. 

Suddenly  the  column  of  air  in  the  chimney 
was  thrown  into  vibration,  and  a  dull  booming 
sound  resulted.  Something  darkened  the  open- 
ing of  the  shaft,  the  interrupted  light  trembled 
in  a  confusing  way  ;  I  was  strongly  inclined  to 
get  out  from  under,  and  found  it  impossible  to 
avoid  closing  my  eyes.  Simultaneously  with 
these  disturbing  events,  a  bird's  voice  in  the 
chimney  produced  a  series  of  rapid  whistling  or 
peeping  notes,  so  mingled  as  to  render  the  hearer 


UP  THE  CHIMNEY. 


249 


ling  or 


uncertain  as  to  the  number  of  birds  making 
them.  A  second  bird  ha-d  entered  the  chimney. 
Seen  from  outside,  he  had  dropped  into  it,  and, 
watched  by  perturl  d  vision  from  below,  he  had 
come  down  backward,  hovering  and  fluttering 
until,  head  toward  the  light,  his  tiny  feet  had 
caught  in  the  mortar,  and  every  spine  in  his  very 
brief  tail  •  ad  been  braced  against  the  same 
rough  substance.  Perfectlv  motionless,  he  clung 
to  the  black  wall  as  a  tree  toad  sticks  to  a  tree 
trunk.  His  flat  head,  tiny  beak,  sooty  brown 
coat,  shining  in  the  glare  from  the  sky,  did  not 
combine  well  into  a  bird  ;  in  fact,  nothing  in 
their  weird  surroundings  made  these  tenants 
seem  akin  to  birds.  They  were  more  like  bats. 
Outside,  the  hot  sunlight  and  hazy  blue  sky  of 
early  July  hung  over  wood  and  meadow,  lake 
and  distant  mountain.  Butterflies  fluttered  and 
drifted  in  aimless  flight  over  the  sumacs,  a  hum- 
ming bird  buzzed  in  the  deep  blue  larkspur  flow- 
ers, barn  swallows  cut  fanciful  curves  over  the 
lake  and  back  to  their  nest  with  its  nestlings ; 
while  down  in  the  shadowy  fern  land  the  veery's 
tremulous  music  told  of  coolness  and  comfort. 
How  different  this  soot-lined  tube  of  brick,  lead- 
ing down  through  ever-darkening  gloom  into  an 
unknown  abyss  of  blackness  and  silence !  How 
strange  that  this  keen-eyed  swift,  which  a  mo- 
ment ago  was  speeding  through  highest  ether  at 


> 


250 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


Si  rate  which  no  other  bird  can  equal  and  main- 
tain, should  come  back  into  this  pit  anri  call  it 
his  home !  He  spoke  again,  and  once  more  the 
heavy  air  of  the  chimney  responded  to  his  whir- 
ring wings  as  he  dropped  a  little  lowerJto  the 
level  of  the  nest  and  turned  his  bright  eyes 
inquiringly  toward  his  mate.  Her  wings  now 
moved,  and  she  lifted  herself  away  from  the 
frail  platform  of  glued  twigs  and  stuck  against 
the  bricks  a  few  feet  distant.  The  male,  raising 
his  wings  and  keeping  tliem  moving,  walked  fly- 
like  to  the  nest  and  settled  upon  it.  Instead  of 
facing  directly  toward  the  north  wall,  he  sat 
upon  the  nest  at  a  different  angle,  so  that  his 
for!:ed  wings  projected  obliquely  from  the  nest's 
edge.  A  moment  later  the  female  made  the  air 
throb  and  boom  to  her  powerful  flight  as  she 
flew  toward  and  into  the  light. 

Twenty  minutes  passed ;  the  bird  on  the  nest 
was  restless,  and  squirmed  in  a  way  which  sug- 
gested physical  discomfort.  Then  he  gave  a  low 
call ;  and  a  moment  later  darkness,  hurried 
notes,  and  the  fluttering  of  strong  wings  an- 
nounced the  mother-bird's  return.  She  dropped 
down  backward  until  close  beside  the  nest,  struck 
and  clung  to  the  bricks,  and  then,  using  her  feet 
almost  as  well  as  though  on  level  ground,  gained 
the  nest  and  pushed  her  way  upon  it,  fairly  for- 
cing off  her  mate,  who  seemed  to  have  no  incli- 


UP  THE  CniMNEY, 


251 


mam- 
call  it 
re  the 

whir- 
Jbo  the 
t  eyes 
s  now 
m  the 
igainst 
raising 
{:ed  fly- 
tead  of 

he  sat 
hat  his 
e  nest's 
1  the  air 

as  she 

;he  nest 
Lch  sug- 
^e  a  low 
hurried 
ngs  an- 
Iropped 
struck 
I  her  feet 
gained 
rly  f  or- 
10  incli- 


nation to  depart.  Finally  he  moved,  and,  after  a 
series  of  short  upward  flights,  regained  the  sun- 
light, and  was  seen  no  more  for  three  quarters 
of  an  hour.  As  the  female  settled  herself  upon 
the  nest  a  faint  "cheeping  "  suggested  that  tiny 
life  was  stirring  beneath  her  breast.  Her  posi- 
tion was  the  same  which  she  took  in  the  first  in- 
stance, her  face  being  turned  so  directly  toward 
the  north  wall  that  her  tail  projected  at  right 
angles  from  the  nest.  After  seeing  half  a  dozen 
exchanges  in  position  made  by  the  birds,  I  was 
satisfied  that  one  parent,  which  I  called  the 
female,  always  sat  straight  upon  the  nest,  and 
the  other,  which  for  the  sake  of  distinguishing 
them  I  called  the  male,  always  sat  obliquely. 

To  see  only  the  bottom  of  the  nest,  yet  to 
know  that  within  it  lay  young  swifts  which  were 
being  fed  in  some  way  by  their  parents,  was  tan- 
talizing. I  recalled  a  former  year,  when  I  wished 
to  secure  a  swift's  nest  with  its  full  set  of  eggs, 
and  so  had  kept  watch  of  the  nest ;  not  by  climb- 
ing to  the  chimney  top  and  peering  down,  but  by 
raising  a  small  mirror,  by  whose  aid  I  had  seen 
the  reflected  nest  from  below.  The  mirror  served 
its  purpose  a  second  time.  I  lashed  it  to  the  tip 
of  a  fishing  rod  and  pushed  the  slender  joint  up 
the  chimney,  adding  first  the  middle  joint  and 
then  tlie  but  in  order  to  bring  the  glass  well 
above  the  nest.     Something:  white  was  in  the 


1 

mii 

j„ 

U 

■1 

■1 

r 

"'^^^m 

i 

r 

i 

•< 

i^|f ', 

iiii'^ 


252 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


nest  —  just  what,  I  could  not  at  first  tell,  for 
mortar  dust  had  fallen  into  my  eyes,  and  it  was 
difficult  to  keep  the  glass  still  enough  to  see  with 
my  eyes  blinking  and  weeping.  The  mother-bird 
had  been  driven  from  the  nest  by  the  appearance 
of  the  strange,  misshapen  thing  which  I  had 
forced  toward  her  from  below,  and  she  was  now 
making  shoriy  flights  back  and  forth  in  the  upper 
part  of  the  chimney,  producing  sounds  and  sud- 
den variations  in  light  and  darkness  which  would 
surely  have  frightened  away  any  but  a  human 
intruder.  Wiping  my  eyes  and  steadying  the 
glass,  I  took  a  careful  look  at  the  contents  of 
the  nest.  The  white  object,  or  at  all  events  its 
whitest  part,  was  an  eggshell  from  whose  opened 
halves  a  young  bird  was  feebly  trying  to  escape. 
Without  waiting  to  see  more,  I  withdrew  the 
mirror  from  the  chimney  and  removed  all  dis- 
turbing objects,  myself  included,  from  the  fire- 
place. My  heart  reproached  me.  Had  my 
violence  driven  the  birds  from  their  nest,  thus 
making  probable  the  death  of  the  young  at  this 
trying  crisis  in  their  career  ?  More  than  fifteen 
minutes  passed  before  booming  wings  in  the 
swift's  grewsome  nursery  assured  me  that  a  par- 
ent had  returned. 

These  events  happened  on  Monday,  and  not 
until  the  following  Saturday  did  I  again  intrude 
upon  my  batlike  neighbors.     Meanwhile  I  was 


VP  THE  CUIMNEY. 


253 


L,  for 

t  was 

Bwitli 

r-\)ir<l 

irance 

I  had 

18  now 

!  upper 

id  sud- 

i  would 

human 

ing  the 

:ents  of 

rents  its 

!  opened 

\i  escape. 

Ilrew  the 
all  dis- 
the  fire- 
lad   my 

est,  thus 

irr  at  this 

in  fifteen 
s  in  the 
lat  a  par- 

r,  and  not 
in  intrude 
lile  I  was 


not  unaware  of  their  near  presence,  for  at  all 
hours  of  the  day  and  night  the  thunder  of  their 
wings  and  their  high-pitched  voices  invaded  my 
room.  After  exchanging  places  at  intervals  of 
from  fifteen  to  forty-five  minutes  all  day  long,  it 
seemed  to  my  human  intelligence  that  they  might 
keep  still  at  night.  But  no,  during  evening  twi- 
light, and  at  ten,  twelve,  one,  and  three  o'clock, 
and  then  with  tenfold  energy  between  dawn  and 
six  in  the  morning,  they  came  and  went,  went 
and  came,  with  apparently  sleepless  energy.  The 
nights  were  clear  and  dry,  and  in  the  sky  or  over 
the  white  surface  of  the  lake  insects  were  prob- 
ably easily  seen  at  any  hour  by  birds  accustomed 
to  such  gloom  as  that  of  my  chimney.  Still  it 
was  wonderful  to  think  of  their  strength  and  pa- 
tience, and  of  their  knowledge  of  place.  Many 
if  not  most  of  us  poor  mortals  lose  our  paths 
under  the  simplest  conditions,  even  with  the  sun 
smiling  down  upon  us,  or  the  stars  writing  their 
ancient  guideboards  anew  for  us  in  the  dark 
heavens,  toward  which  we  will  not  turn  for  aid. 
These  swifts,  however,  seem  to  plough  through 
darkness  or  light  with  equal  confidence,  cleaving 
the  cool  wind  at  the  rate  of  more  than  a  mile  a 
minute,  seeing  first  the  pale  lake  below  their 
chimney's  shadow,  then  tlie  vast  peak  of  Choco- 
rua,  framed  in  its  sombre  spruces,  and  again 
some  far  range  of  untrodden  mountains  where 


264 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


w 

'■x3    ■ 

iii'4  '<^i 

II  ''^ 


m 


i 


;;T 


fellow  swifts  still  nest  in  hollow  tree  trunks  after 
the  ancient  practice  of  their  family.  What  mar- 
velous sense  is  it  which  brings  them  back  by  day 
or  by  night,  in  sunlight  or  in  storm,  straight  as 
thought  itself,  to  home  and  rest  ? 

I  never  have  met  a  man  who  remembered 
having  seen  a  swift  perch.  It  was  formerly  sup- 
posed that  they  had  no  feet,  and  some  people 
still  believe  the  fable.  In  building-time  the  birds 
come  spinning  through  the  air  like  projectiles, 
and  while  flying  thus  snap  small  terminal  twigs 
from  sycamores  and  other  brittle  trees,  and  carry 
them  back  to  their  chimneys,  to  be  painstakingly 
glued  into  their  fragile  nests.  After  seeing  my 
swifts  use  their  feet  so  readily  in  getting  to  and 
from  their  nest,  I  shall  not  be  much  surprised 
some  day  to  see  a  swift  alight  upon  some  conven- 
ient perch  outside  his  chimney.  Nevertheless, 
so  far  as  is  now  known,  the  swifts  take  no  rest 
even  after  flying  many  miles  with  incredible 
speed,  until  their  accustomed  shelter  is  regained. 

When  Saturday  came,  I  felt  that  it  was  time 
to  see  more  of  my  noisy  tenants.  In  the  inter- 
vening days  something  which  looked  like  a  happy 
thought  had  come  to  me.  Why  should  I  lie 
supine  among  the  fire  irons  gazing  up  the  black 
chimney  hole,  when,  by  judicious  use  of  a  few 
mirrors,  I  could  bring  the  swifts  and  their  cavern 
within  range  of  my  writing  table  ?     Saturday 


UP  THE  CHIMNEY. 


255 


morning  the  small  mirror  climbed  tlie  flue  a  sec- 
ond time  and  was  firmly  lashed  in  position  a  few 
inches  above  the  nest.  The  lashing,  of  course, 
was  applied  to  the  but  of  the  fishing  rod  at  the 
point  where  it  rested  in  the  fireplace  among  and- 
irons and  tongs.  Then  a  narrow,  old-fashioned 
mirror,  in  which  somebody's  great-grandmother 
may  have  admired  her  pretty  face  in  the  days  of 
a  long-forgotten  honeymoon,  was  gently  rested 
upon  tlie  single  stick  of  wood  at  the  back  of  the 
fireplace  so  that  it.'*  face  inclined  slightly  toward 
me.  Wonderful !  —  there  were  the  shiny  flue, 
the  nest,  the  frightened  bird  perching  far  up  the 
shaft,  and  the  narrow  line  of  sky  above  her; 
and  there  also  was  the  small  glass  it  the  tip  of 
my  fishing  rod,  and  in  its  oval  face  was  an  image 
of  the  inside  of  the  shallow  nest  with  two  fat, 
featherless,  sightless  swifts  flopping  about  in  it. 
Nothing  could  now  be  easier  than  to  watch  the 
entire  process  of  rearing  the  infant  projectiles 
from  a  state  of  feebleness  and  imbecility  to  that 
marvelous  condition  of  grace,  speed,  and  intelli- 
gence at  which,  in  the  natural  course  of  events, 
they  would  arrive  in  a  few  brief  days. 

My  first  desire  was  to  ascertain  how  they 
were  fed.  The  barn  swallows,  who  by  some 
freak  have  taken  possession  of  a  pewee's  nest 
just  under  the  eaves  of  my  cottage,  feed  their 
young  with  insects  which  they  bring  bristling  in 


256 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


i 


their  beaks.  I  had  expected  to  see  the  swifts 
bring  insects  to  their  babies,  but  my  closest 
scrutiny  failed  to  discover  anything  in  their 
beaks  when  they  arrived,  or  when  they  went 
upon  the  nest.  Under  the  new  conditions,  I 
watched  with  double  care  and  attention.  At 
first,  for  nearly  an  hour,  the  birds  were  too 
much  disturbed  by  the  glass  and  fishing  rod  to 
settle  upon  the  nest.  They  came  close  to  it 
and  chattered,  but  flew  nervously  and  noisily,  as 
though  to  frighten  away  the  intruder.  After  a 
while  they  grew  quieter,  and  finally  one  arrived 
with  food.  She  came  to  the  nest,  mounted 
its  edge,  and  leaned  toward  the  open-mouthed 
young.  Then  she  moved  violently,  and  seemed 
to  hang  over  the  infants,  to  pound  them,  shake 
them,  and  push  them  back  and  forth  in  a  sin- 
gidarly  rough  and  unkind  way.  Seeing  all  these 
things  by  double  reflection  and  in  the  dim  light 
of  the  chimney,  I  could  not  be  certain  of  details, 
but  all  that  I  saw  reminded  me  of  descriptions  I 
had  heard  and  read  of  feeding  young  birds  by 
regurgitation,  while  nothing  that  went  on  looked 
like  the  quiet  and  matter-of-fact  process  of  drop- 
ping a  fly  into  a  little  bird's  gaping  mouth.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  the  parent  inserted  her  bill 
in  the  young  one's  throat,  and  then  presumably 
pumped  into  it,  by  the  violent  motions  which 
she  made,  a  portion  of  the  food  previously  swal- 


UP   THE   CHIMNEY. 


257 


by 

3oked 
drop- 
It 
bill 
nably 
i^hicli 
swal- 


lowed by  her.  After  being  fed,  the  young 
dropped  back  limp  or  satisfied  into  the  nest, 
and  were  promptly  sat  upon  and  hustled  into 
a  comfortable  and  orderly  condition.  Appar- 
ently both  birds  joined  in  feeding  their  offspring, 
for  I  saw  first  one  and  then  the  other  go  through 
this  peculiar  process. 

Supposing  that  1  should  have  ample  opportu- 
nity for  several  days  to  watch  the  feeding,  I  did 
not  devote  myself  to  its  study  as  faithfully  as  I 
should  have  done,  had  I  foreseen  the  distressing 
event  which  was  in  store  for  my  tenants.  On  Sat- 
urday afternoon  a  Mght  rain  fell.  The  faithful 
mother  sat  upon  her  nest  while  multitudes  of 
tiny  drops  floated  down  the  chimney.  They  did 
not  fall,  but  seemed  to  sail  unwillingly  through 
the  gloom,  held  aloft  by  the  ascending  currents 
of  air.  Each  globule  shone  with  light,  and 
looked  almost  as  white  as  a  snowflake.  As  they 
aj^proached  the  nest,  few  seemed  to  touch  it,  but 
curved  away  from  it  in  some  eddy  of  the  air, 
and  settled  down  into  the  depths  of  darkness 
below.  During  the  rain  both  birds  remained  in 
the  chimney  most  of  the  time.  Sunday,  July 
16th,  proved  to  be  an  unusually  warm  day,  and, 
what  was  perhaps  of  more  moment  to  the  swifts, 
a  very  dry  day,  there  seeming  to  be  no  moisture 
left  in  air  or  vegetation.  About  noon,  while 
writing  at  my  table,  I  heard  the  familiar  boom- 


258 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


I 


ing,  whistling,  and  chirping  in  the  chimney,  and 
as  I  glanced  up  I  saw  that  one  of  the  birds  was 
coming  to  the  nest  and  the  other  just  going  off 
up  chimney.  Suddenly  there  was  a  grating 
sound,  a  sharp  outcry,  more  booming  and  flut- 
tering, and  I  jumped  to  my  feet  and  knelt  before 
the  glass  to  gain  a  closer  view  of  the  chimney. 
The  nest  had  vanished.  Only  a  tiny  piece  of 
glue  adhered  to  the  slight  curve  in  the  bricks 
under  which  the  nest  had  attached.     The 

parent  bird,  with  ruffled  ^  ge  and  rapidly 
moving  head,  clung  near  the  spot  where  her 
home  had  been,  and  seemed  to  nie  to  be  looking 
with  terror  far  down  into  that  horrible  abyss 
where  her  young  had  fallen,  and  from  which 
they  sent  back  no  cry.  Taking  down  the  jointed 
rod,  I  used  the  smaU  mirror  to  search  every  part 
of  the  great  chimney  cavern  which  could  bo 
reached,  but  in  vain.  The  nest  had  gone  straight 
down  without  touching  any  fireplace,  and  had 
been  lost  forever  in  the  debris  and  stifling  dust 
at  the  bottom  of  the  shaft. 

During  the  remainder  of  the  day  the  birds 
fluttered  back  and  forth  and  lamented.  They  did 
not  go  more  than  two  or  three  inches  below  the 
spot  where  the  ill-fated  nest  had  been.  At  in- 
tervals during  the  night  I  heard  them  moving  in 
the  chimney,  but  on  Monday  they  stayed  away 
most  of  the  time,  even  during  a  heavy  shower 


n ' 


UP  THE   CHIMNEY. 


259 


which  fell  late  in  the  afternoon.  Toward  even- 
ing I  saw  both  of  them  perched  near  the  site  of 
their  fallen  home,  and  during  that  night  and  on 
other  days  and  niglits  the  sound  of  their  wings 
occasionally  came  to  me  as  a  reminder  of  their 
vanished  happiness.  They  made  no  effort  to  re- 
build in  my  chimney,  yet  their  presence  in  it 
seemed  to  show  that  they  had  not  begun  house- 
keeping elsewhere.  I  doubt  not  that  another 
summer  that  love  of  home  which  is  so  closely 
connected  with  birds'  ability  to  find  a  familiar 
spot  by  day  or  by  night,  even  after  months  of 
absence,  will  bring  my  swifts  back  to  their  old 
flue. 


THE   HUMMING-BIRDS  OF  CHOCORUA. 


While  anow  still  sparkles  in  the  frost  furrows 
on  Chocorua's  peak,  the  first  ruby-throats  appear 
in  the  warm  nieaaows  and  forest  glades  at  the 
south  of  the  mountain.  They  love  the  flowers  as 
others  of  their  race  love  them,  and  when  apple 
blossoms  bless  the  air  with  perfume  and  visions 
of  lovely  color  and  form,  the  humming-birds  revel 
in  the  orchards  of  the  North  as  their  brothers 
delight  in  the  rich  flowers  of  the  tropics.  It  is 
not,  however,  among  flowers  that  the  Chocorua 
ruby-throats  are  happiest  or  most  frequently 
seen.  Were  some  one  to  ask  me  to  find  a  hum- 
ming-bird quickly,  it  would  make  no  difference 
what  the  age  of  the  summer  or  what  the  hour  of 
the  day,  I  should  turn  my  steps  toward  the  for- 
est, feeling  certain  that  at  the  drinking  fountains 
of  the  yellow-breasted  woodpecker,  the  red-capped 
tapster,  and  loud-voiced  toper  of  the  birch  wood, 
I  should  find  the  ruby-throats  sipping  their  fa- 
vorite drink. 

About  the  middle  of  April,  and  again  nearly 
six  months  later,  a  mischievous  and  wary  wood- 
pecker migrates   north   and  south  across  New 


fa- 


THE  IIUMMING-BIHDS   OF  CIIOCORUA.     261 

England.  The  casual  observer  might  take  him 
to  be  a  demure  little  downy,  intent  upon  keeping 
the  orchard  free  from  insects,  and,  if  the  sly 
migrant  was  ordinarily  quick  in  placing  a  tree 
trunk  between  his  black  and  white  body  and 
the  observer,  his  identity  would  not  be  detected. 
On  April  17,  1892,  I  noticed  one  of  these  birds 
clinging  to  a  smooth  spot  on  the  trunk  of  a  shag- 
bark  which  grew  on  a  warm  pasture  hillside  in 
sight  of  Bunker  Ilill  and  the  golden  dome  of  the 
Massachusetts  State  House.  Watching  him  care- 
fully for  a  moment,  I  saw  that  he  was  a  yellow- 
breasted  or  sap-sucking  woodpecker,  perhaps  one 
of  my  own  Chocorua  neighbors,  and  that  he  was 
quietly  sipping  the  sweet  sap  of  the  shagbark 
which  was  ilowing  from  several  small  holes  in 
the  bark,  drilled,  no  doubt,  that  very  morning 
by  the  traveler  so  serenely  occupied. 

The  sapsuckers  reach  norther-n  New  Hamp- 
shire before  the  snow  has  wholly  melted  in  the 
woods.  I  have  seen  them  at  Chocorua,  on  May 
1st,  at  work  upon  trees  which  they  had  evidently 
been  tapping  for  fully  a  week.  From  this  time 
until  the  last  of  September,  perhaps  even  till  the 
7th  or  8th  of  October,  they  spend  the  greater 
part  of  their  time  drilling  small  holes  in  the 
bark  of  their  favorite  trees  and  in  sipping  from 
the  sap  fountains  thus  opened  the  life  blood  of 
the  doomed  trees.     They  do  not  range  about 


262 


FROyf  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


through  the  forest  tapping  one  tree  here  and 
another  there,  but  they  select  one,  two,  perhaps 
three  groups  of  trees  well  lighted  and  warmed  by 
the  sun,  and  make  sap  orchards  of  them,  cling- 
ing to  them  many  hours  at  a  time,  week  after 
week,  and  returning  to  them,  or  others  close  at 
hand.,  year  after  year. 

Within  a  mile  of  my  cottage  at  the  foot  of 
Chocorua  there  are  half  a  dozen  of  these  drink- 
ing places  of  the  yellow-breasted  woodpeckers, 
and  each  one  of  them  is  a  focus  for  ruby-throats. 
The  one  which  I  have  known  longest  I  discov- 
ered in  1887.  It  consists  of  a  group  of  gray 
birches,  springing  from  a  single  stump  and  ex- 
panding into  fifteen  distinct  trunks.  When  I 
first  saw  it  all  the  trees  were  living,  and  nearly 
all  of  them  were  yielding  sap  from  the  girdles 
of  small  drills  which  the  woodj>eckers  had  made 
in  the  i-runks,  about  nine  feet  from  the  ground. 
In  July,  1893,  all  but  three  of  the  trees  were 
dead,  and  of  the  dead  trunks  all  except  two  had 
been  broken  off  by  the  wind  at  a  point  a  few 
inches  below  the  drills.  The  surviving  trees  had 
been  tapped,  and  were  in  use  by  both  sapsuckers 
and  humming-birds.  During  1890,  1891,  and 
1892,  the  humming-bird  in  attendance  at  this 
orchard  was  a  male  of  noticeably  strong  charac- 
ter. There  was  no  mistaking  him  for  any  chance 
visitor  at  the  place.    He  spent  all  his  time  there, 


e  and 
jrhaps 
led  by 
cling- 
:  after 
lose  at 

:oot  o£ 
drill)  K- 
Bckers, 
hroats. 
aiscov- 
f  gray 
md  ex- 
^hen  I 
nearly 
girdles 

made 

ound. 

were 

wo  had 

a  few 
ees  had 
suckers 

1,  and 
at  this 
charac- 

chance 
e  there, 


TYl 


THE  UUMMING-BIRDS   OF  CIIOCORUA.     263 

and  repelled  intruders  with  great  vigor,  flying 
violently  at  them,  squeaking,  humming  as  noisily 
as  a  swarm  of  bees^  and  returning  to  his  favorite 
perch  as  soon  as  they  had  been  put  to  flight.  He 
often  attacked  the  sapsuckers  themselves,  buzzed 
in  their  faces,  and  seemed  little  abashed  when 
they  turned  upon  him,  as  they  sometimes  did, 
and  drove  \vn\  from  their  midst.  He  also  had  a 
habit  of  squeaking  s])itefully  when  he  was  drink- 
ing from  the  sap-wells,  especially  on  his  return 
from  a  bout  with  some  other  humming-bird. 
Searching  for  him  in  July,  1893, 1  failed  to  find 
him,  but  discovered  that  in  his  place  a  pair  of 
birds  seetiied  to  have  established  themselves.  Of 
course  it  is  possible  that  my  friend  of  previous 
years  may  have  taken  to  h'mself  a  wife  and  have 
become  niml-mannered  in  consequence,  but  I  find' 
it  impossible  to  believe  in  this  theory,  so  pro- 
nounced were  the  old  male's  temper  and  peculiar 
ways.  The  new  male,  for  example,  did  not  use 
the  same  twigs  for  perches,  and  he  did  not  keep 
liis  head  wagging  from  side  to  side  as  the  old  one 
did  with  a  vigor  and  regularity  which  nothing 
but  a  pendulum  ever  equaled. 

The  new  male,  however,  showed  me  a  perform- 
ance far  more  interesting  in  character  than  any 
of  his  petulant  predeco':sor's,  and  one  which  es- 
tablishes the  Chororua  ruby-throat  as  a  musician 
and  a  dancer.    One  day,  while  this  male  was 


264 


FROAf  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


f 

(•J 


drinking  at  the  sap  fountains,  a  female  arrived. 
The  male  greeted  her  with  squeaks  and  intense 
humming.  She  alighted  on  the  tree  near  the 
drills,  and  the  male  then  hurled  himself  through 
the  air  with  amazing  speed,  describing  a  curve 
such  as  would  be  drawn  by  a  violently  swung 
pendulum  attached  to  a  cord  fifteen  or  eighteen 
feet  long.  The  female  was  at  the  lowest  point  of 
the  arc  described  by  her  vehement  admirer,  and 
she  sat  perfectly  motionless  while  he  swung  past 
her  eight  times.  When  he  moved  fastest  —  that 
is,  when  he  approached  and  passed  her  —  he  pro- 
duced in  some  unknown  way  a  high,  clear,  sweet, 
musical  note,  louder  even  than  the  humming 
which  was  incessant  during  his  flight.  In  this 
first  performance  the  male  moved  from  north  to 
south.  A  few  minutes  later  he  went  through  the 
dance  a  second  time,  describing  a  shorter  curve 
and  moving  east  and  west.  Still  a  third  time, 
when  the  female  had  taken  position  in  the  midst 
of  a  few  dense  branches,  the  male  faced  her,  and 
in  a  short  arc,  the  plane  of  which  was  horizontal, 
flew  back  and  forth  before  her.  I  had  seen  this 
performance  once  before,  in  July,  1890,  at  an- 
other orchard,  and  at  that  time  I  fancied  that 
both  birds  took  part  in  the  flight,  but  in  this 
case  the  birds  were  close  above  me  as  I  lay 
among  the  ferns,  and  there  was  no  difficulty  in 
seeing  clearly  all  that  thoy  did.     During  July, 


THE  HUMMING-BIRDS  OF  CHOCORUA.     2G5 


rrived. 
intense 
!ar  the 
hrough 
I,  curve 
swung 
iffhteen 
point  of 
cer,  and 
mg  past 
t  —  that 
-  he  pro- 
r,  sweet, 
Lumming 
In  this 
north  to 
ough  the 
;er  curve 
rd  time, 
le  midst 
ler,  and 
■izontal, 
seen  this 
0,  at  an- 
cied  that 
it  in  this 
as  I  lay 
ftculty  in 
ing  July, 


1V 


1893,  whenever  I  visited  this  orchard,  which  I 
call  "  No.  4,"  I  found  a  male  and  a  female  ruby- 
throat  in  attendance  upon  it. 

In  July  and  August,  1890,  while  watching 
sapsuckers  at  what  I  called  orchards  "  No.  1 " 
and  "  No.  2,"  I  found  that  some  woodpeckers 
adopted  an  entirely  different  method  of  dealing 
with  humming-birds  from  that  practiced  by 
others.  At  orchard  No.  1,  the  woodpeckers 
drove  away  a  humming-bird  with  a  marked  d' - 
play  of  anger  whenever  one  showed  itself  near 
the  large  red  maple  which  was  being  tapped. 
At  orchard  No.  2,  on  the  contrary,  the  sapsuck- 
ers allowed  the  ruby-throats  to  drink  at  drills  a 
few  inches  from  their  own  bills,  and  resented 
only  marked  impertinence  on  the  part  of  their 
tiny  visitors.  At  No.  1,  scores  of  visits  were 
paid  by  humming-birds  every  day,  but  they 
reached  the  drills  in  a  comparatively  small  num- 
ber of  instances.  When  they  did  gain  them 
they  drank  long  and  deeply,  often  perching 
upon  the  bark  and  drinking  while  their  nervous 
wings  were  motionless.  At  No.  2,  it  eenied  im- 
])ossible  to  estinuite  the  number  of  humming- 
birds in  attendance.  I  wont  so  far  as  to  shoot  a 
male  and  a  female  in  order  to  feel  certain  that 
more  than  one  pair  of  the  tiny  birds  came  to  the 
drills.  Nine  Jiiinntes  after  my  second  crime  a 
third  huniining-biid  was  (piietly  drinking  at  the 


266 


FEOM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


3^^%JSiC'i 


wells.  Orchards  No.  1  and  No.  2  were  deserted 
in  or  after  1891,  their  trees  for  the  most  jDart 
being  dead,  or  so  nearly  dead  as  to  be  unattrac- 
tive to  the  sapsuckers.  A  few  rods  from  No.  2, 
a  new  orchard  was  observed  by  me  in  1892.  It 
may  be  a  direct  continuation  of  No.  2,  but  as 
all  the  woodpeckers  at  No.  2  were  supposed  to 
have  been  shot  in  1890,  the  chances  are  that  It  is 
a  new  settlement.  In  July,  1893,  twenty  gray 
birches  within  an  area  a  hundred  feet  square 
had  been  scarred  by  the  woodpeckers.  About 
half  of  these  were  dead,  and  out  of  the  entire 
number  only  four  trees  were  newly  drilled  and 
sap-yielding.  In  many  ways  this  orchard  proved 
to  be  the  most  interesting  I  have  watched. 
The  family  of  sapsuckers  using  it  was  not  pug- 
nacious, and  in  consequence  other  birds  visited 
it  much  more  freely  than  is  generally  the  case. 
Downy  woodpeckers  occasionally  sipped  at  its 
fountains ;  black-antl-white  creeping  warblers 
regularly,  though  warily,  visited  its  insect  hoards, 
and  during  the  autumn  migration  of  1892  a  pair 
of  yellow-breasted  flycatchers  spent  many  days 
in  constant  attendance  upon  its  trees,  around 
which  countless  insects  fluttered  or  hunnned. 

The  four  sap-yielding  trees  at  this  orchard 
appeared  in  eTuly,  18'^3,  to  have  been  ajipropri- 
atcd,  subject  to  the  prior  claims  of  the  wood- 
jMjekers,  by  three  humming-birds,  a  female  and 


L 


THE  nUMMING-BIRDS  OF  CIIOCORUA.     2C7 


jerted 
;  part 
ittrac- 
t^o.  2, 
2.     It 
)ut  as 
3ed  to 
it  it  is 
T  gray- 
square 
About 

entire 
3d  and 
proved 
atched. 
[)t  pug- 

\dsited 
le  case, 
at  its 

arblers 

loards, 
a  pair 

ly  days 

around 

led. 
cliard 

)propri- 
wood- 

lic  and 


3r 


two  males.  No  one  of  these  birds  permitted 
either  of  the  others  or  any  one  of  numerous  fili- 
bustering humming-birds  to  drink  at  its  preemp- 
ted wells.  If  trespass  was  attempted,  the  most 
furious  assault  was  made  upon  the  intruder,  and 
the  possessor  was  always  victorious.  Thus,  if 
the  female  at  the  eastern  tree  attempted  to  ap- 
proach the  western  tree,  the  male  on  guard  there 
drove  her  away  ;  while  if  he  entered  upon  her 
dominions,  he  was  swiftly  repulsed.  The  details 
of  these  meetings  were  sometimes  very  extraor- 
dinary. In  one  instance  a  visiting  female  per- 
sisted for  nearly  ten  minutes  in  trying  to  secure 
a  foothold  at  the  western  tree.  The  savage 
little  male  met  her  with  his.  usual  impetuous 
charge,  but  she  dodged  him,  and  began  a  strange 
sinuous  flight  among  the  branches,  back  and 
forth,  up  and  down,  round  and  through,  over 
and  under,  until  the  air  seemed  filled  with  pur- 
sued and  pursuer,  dizzily  maintaining  their  mys- 
terious flight  within  from  five  to  a  hundred  feet 
of  the  disputed  drinking  place.  Much  of  the 
time  the  female  seemed  to  be  facing  the  male 
and  flying  backward  slowly  with  head  erect ; 
then  there  would  come  a  swift  "buzz-z-z,"  and  a 
clear  space  between  tlie  trees  would  be  traversed 
by  both  birds  with  the  speed  of  light,  a  slower 
flight  being  resumed  the  moment  foliage  was 
'juteit'il.     If  the  male  paused  in  his  pursuit,  the 


«S5Is?W"5r^ci'o1ES«?r3s5sr.sSM 


^i'imr 


268 


F]i0^f  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


female  drew  near  again  to  the  coveted  drills, 
and  so  forced  lihn  to  renew  the  chase.  Some- 
times they  moved  so  slowly  that  they  seemed 
like  bubbles  or  airy  seed  vessels  wafted  by  the 
breeze,  and  sometimes  they  flew  in  short,  ever- 
changing  lines,  so  that  the  eye  wearied  of  watch- 
ing them.  At  last  the  female  gave  up  the 
struggle  and  viinished  above  the  neighboring 
treetops. 

Frequently  the  visitors  did  not  come  singly, 
but  arrived  two  or  three  together,  and  made 
combined  attacks  upon  the  drills.  Then  the 
air  would  be  filled  with  violent  humming  and 
the  most  petulant  squeaking,  as  the  possessors 
hurled  themselves  first  at  one  intruder  and  then 
at  another,  driving  them  back  and  forth,  as 
though  playing  battledore  and  shuttlecock  with 
them.  Twice  I  saw  the  male,  who  defended  the 
western  tree,  lock  bills  with  a  visiting  female 
and  fall  almost  to  the  ground  in  combat ;  and 
in  several  instances  I  noticed  a  hotly  pursued 
visitor  escape  by  suddenly  doubling,  seizing  a 
twig,  and  tlien  hanging  head  downward  by  one 
foot  behind  a  cluster  of  leaves.  As  a  rule,  the 
ruby-throat,  when  drinking,  makes  a  perfectly 
audible  humming,  the  male  making  a  sound 
somewhat  louder  and  deeper  than  that  produced 
by  the  female.  It  is,  however,  entirely  within 
the  range    of  their   accomplishments  to   hover 


THE  IIUMMlNG-niRDS  OF  CUOCORUA.     2G9 

silently,  and  it  is  not  unusual  for  a  visitor  to 
drink  silently  when  succjessf  ul  in  reaching  a  tree 
unseen.  While  I  never  have  seen  a  male  ruby- 
throat  di'ink  from  the  drills  while  perching, 
I  have  noticed  the  female  doing  so  scores  of 
times.  In  fact,  the  female  at  the  eastern  tree 
perched  nearly  a  third  of  the  time,  sometimes 
on  a  twig  from  which  she  could  lean  over  and 
sip  the  sap,  sometimes  on  the  bark  itself  in  a 
position  almost  identical  with  that  taken  by  the 
woodpecker. 

One  morning  while  I  was  watching  the  new 
orchard,  a  shower  came  up  from  behind  the  west- 
ern spurs  of  Chocorua.     Thunder  grumbled,  the 
sky  grew  dark,  and  the  wind  swished  viciously 
througli  the  slender  birches.     I  wondered  what 
the  birds  and  insects  would  do  when  the  rain 
came.     From  where  I  sat,  I  could  see  dozens  of 
living  things,  most  of  which  were  more  or  less 
dependent  upon  the  sapsuckers'  orchard.   There 
were  four  of  the  woodpeckers  themselves,  three 
humming-birds,  a  hermit  thrash,  two  juncos, 
three  chickadees,  a  least  flycatcher  ;  five  or  six 
butterflies  representing  three  species  ;    hornets 
and  numbers  of  flies,  ants,  and  other  small  in- 
sects.    As  the  rain  began,  the  insects,  with  the 
exception  of  the  hornets,  vanished  at  once.     All 
the  birds,  save  one  of  the  woodpeckers  and  the 
ruby-throats,  flew  out  of  sight.     The  remaining 


270 


FROM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


sapsuckcr  was  a  young  bird,  who  looked  stupid, 
and  who  received  the  rain  by  ducking  his  head 
and  vibrating  his  tail  and  wings  as  a  bird  does 
when  he  bathes  in  a  pool.  But  the  ruby-throats 
amazed  me  by  their  conduct.  They  sought  leaf- 
less twigs  with  only  the  weeping  sky  above  them, 
and  there,  apparently  with  joy,  extended  their 
wings  to  the  fullest  extent,  spread  their  tails 
until  every  feather  showed  its  point,  and  then 
received  the  pelting,  pounding  rain  as  though  it 
were  holy  water.  They  became  so  wet  that  I 
doubted  whether  they  could  fly.  Buzz-z-?^  1  the 
vigilant  male  darted  at  an  intruding  female  and 
drove  her  out  of  sight,  only  to  see  her  return 
again  and  again  in  the  thickest  of  the  white 
drops  in  vain  attempts  to  overcome  his  watchful- 
ness. It  was  evident  that  no  ordinary  shower 
could  interfere  with  the  whirring  wings  of  a 
humming-bird. 

As  the  season  of  1893  wore  on,  the  number  of 
humming-birds  at  this  orchard  diminished.  Late 
in  July  I  saw  not  fewer  than  five  birds  near 
the  trees  at  one  moment,  three  of  them  being 
regular  attendants  and  two  interlopers.  During 
tiie  next  four  weeks  I  wac  absent,  but  on  my 
return,  I  found  that  only  the  female  using  the 
eastern  tree  remained,  and  that  she  was  seldom 
annoyed  by  visitors.  The  trees  which  had  been 
used  by  tne  other  two  birds  had  run  dry,  and  the 


I 


-*sflN^--' 


' 


I  near 
being 


THE  IlUMXriNG-BIRDS   OF  CIIOCORUA.     271 

sapsuckers  as  well  as  their  uninvited  guests  had 
abandoned  them.    Of  the  identity  of  the  remain- 
ing hunmiing-bird  there  could  be  no  question ; 
her  ways  were  too  strongly  marked  to  be  mis- 
taken, as,  for  example,  her  invariable  habH  of 
alighting  upon  one  slightly  sloping  trunk  when 
she  drank  from  its  drills.      When  September 
drew  near  I  watched  closely  to  ascertain  the  date 
of  the  little  lady  s  departure,  but  day  after  day 
came  and  went  without  my  missing  her.     At 
last,  on  September  1st,  it  seemed  to  me  that  she 
had  gone.     I  had  waited  ten  or  fifteen  minutes 
by  the  trees  and  she  had  not  come,  though  the 
sapsuckers  were  busy  at  the  drills  in  their  ac- 
customed places.     Before  finally  giving  her  up 
I  thought  that  I  would  count  a  hundred  slowly 
and  see  if  this  form  of  incantation  might  not 
draw  her  to  her  trees.    When  I  reached  "  ninety 
nine  "  and  no  bird  came,  I  concluded  that  the 
exact  date  of  her  migration  had  been  found,  but 
as  I  said  "  one  hundred  "  there  was  a  faint  hum 
in  the  still  air,  and  the  dainty  dipper  appeared 
with  her  usual  sprigntliness.     On  the  6th,  after 
several  light  frosts  had  laid  their  chilly  touch 
upon  the  Chocorua  country,  I  felt  confident  that 
the  tiny  creature  must  have  sought  a  kinder 
climate.      Again,  however,  she  surprised  me  by 
appearing,  after  a  long  delay,  as  bright  as  ever. 
She  hummed  at  her  regular  drinking  places,  but 


272 


FJiOM  BLOMIDON  TO  SMOKY. 


seemed  to  find  little  moisture  in  the  wasting  foun- 
tains. The  trees  were  losing  vitality  and  becom- 
ing dry.  Then  she  sought  the  dead  twigs  at  the 
tops  of  last  year's  trees  and  flitted  back  and  forth 
among  them,  sunning  herself.  No  perch  pleased 
her  long,  and  when  she  wearied  of  them  all  she 
darted  back  to  the  drills  for  a  brief  perfunctory 
sip  of  the  slow-moving  sap.  Her  restlessness 
seemed  born  of  the  season,  and  a  symptom  of 
that  fever  of  migration  which  was  making  all 
bird-life  throb  more  and  more  quickly. 

Although  on  September  25th,  when  I  made 
my  last  visit  of  the  year  to  the  orchard,  I  found 
two  sapsuckers  still  at  work  at  the  drills,  no 
humming-bird  was  with  them.  How  long  after 
the  6th  the  vigorous  little  female  remained  I  do 
not  know,  for  I  was  unable  to  watch  the  trees 
during  the  middle  of  the  month. 

Although  at  Chocorua  I  never  have  found  a 
sapsuckers'  orchard  without  its  attendant  hum- 
ming-birds, I  am  by  no  means  sure  that  in  other 
localities  where  both  birds  occur  the  same  com- 
munity of  interests  is  to  be  detected.  During  a 
brief  visit  to  Cape  Breton  in  midsummer,  1893, 
I  kept  close  watch  for  sapsuckers  and  humming- 
birds. Of  the  latter,  not  one  came  under  my 
eyes,  although  common  testimony  was  that  they 
frequented  the  country.  Of  the  sapsuckers  I 
found  one  flourishing  colony  among  the  alders 


THE  HUMMING-BIRDS   OF  CIIOCORUA.     273 

which  bordered  the  southwest  Margaree  at  the 
point  where  that  swift  stream  emerges  from  Loch 
Ainslie.  More  than  a  dozen  alder  trunks  had 
been  girdled  with  drills  and  a  rich  orchard 
seemed  to  be  in  use.  I  had  not  long  to  wait  at 
the  spot,  but  in  the  fifteen  minutes  which  I  could 
spare  no  humming-birds  came  to  reward  my 
silent  watching. 

In  some  parts  of  the  country  sapsuckers  are 
roughly  treated  on  account  of  their  destruction 
of  trees.  It  is  unquestionably  true  that  each 
family  of  birds  kills  one  or  more  vigorous  trees 
each  year,  but  generally  the  trees  are  small  and 
of  trifling  value  as  timber.  My  sapsuckers  are 
vvelcome  to  several  forest  trees  a  year,  so  long  as 
they  continue  to  attract  and  feed  humming-birds, 
and  indirectly  to  draw  thousands  of  insects  within 
easy  reach  of  their  own  bills  and  the  more 
active  mandibles  of  flycatchers,  warblers,  and 
vireos. 


^1 


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IMAGE  EVALUATrON 
TFST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


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INDEX. 


Acadian,  4,  5,  8,  79. 

Albany,  187. 

Aldjr,  101, 128,  272,  273. 

Annapolis.  3,  7. 

Annapolis  Basin,  1,  2,  98, 104. 

Ant,  150,  162,  1G9,  238,  2G9. 

Antigonish,  68. 

Apple,  6,  7,  190,  231 ,  243,  244,  260. 

Arlington,  242. 

Ash,  131,  154,  216,  238-241,  245. 

A8«-dr,  220. 

Avon,  80. 

Baddeck,  13,  15-17,  20,  21,  29,  66- 

68,  83,   88,    91-94,   95,   100,  103, 

104. 
Bar,  22-24,29,  41,85. 
Barasois,   Mountain,  21,  22;  River, 

22,  28,  67. 
Barberry,  239. 
Bat,  221. 
Bay  of  Fundy,  1,  2,  4,  5,  73-77,  79, 

80,  93,  94. 
Balsam  fir,  3,  15,  26,  26,  59,  63,  85. 
Bear  River,  3. 

Beech,  35, 63,  106,  135,  176, 177, 195, 
Birch,  yellow,  33,  35,  44,  63,  106 ; 

canoe,    131,    132,    140,    141,    149, 

154, 188,  213,  232,  260 ;  white,  126, 

146,  241,  262,  266. 
Bittern,  46,  217,  233. 
Blackbird,  100;  cowbird,  100,  129, 

208,  210,  222 ;  purple  grackle,  100, 

129  ;  redwing,  100,  129,  215,  216  ; 

rusty  grackle,  100, 
Bloniidon,  1 , 3-7,  22, 31, 69, 74-81, 93. 
Bluebird,  128,  214,  222,  231. 
IJobolink,  100,  217. 
Bohemian  wax-wing,  233. 
Boston,  223. 
Bras  d'Or,  13,  14,  20,  21,  26,  35,  42, 

56,  68,  73,  81,  93,  95,  96,  104. 
Brown  creeper,  213. 
Butterfly,  143,  151,  221,  222,  249, 

269. 


Cambridge,  117, 129, 198,  237. 

Canard  River,  6. 

Canso,  Gut  of,  12.  13,  68. 

Cape  Breton,  1  .4,  32-36,  65,  67, 
82-105,  272 ;  Dauphin,  28,  30,  31, 
35;  North,  24,  36;  Sliarp,  74-76, 
78;  Smoky,  16,  21-28,  31-39,  43, 
48-52,  55-58,  79,  81,  83,  97,  98, 
103 ;  Split,  74,  76,  78. 

Cat,  195. 

Catbird,  83, 123,  188,  222,  224,  225. 

Cedar.  238,  243. 

Cedarbird,  122,  123,  126,  191,  216, 
232,  233. 

Charles  River,  237. 

Chewiuk,  129. 

Chickadee,  black-capped,  82,  88,  89, 
102,  117,  120,  129,  130,  187,  188, 
193,  213,  222,  224,  225,  239,  241, 
245,  269;  Hudson's  Bay,  67,  82, 
87,  89, 102,  187,  241. 

Chimney  swift,  94,  124,  199,  215, 
247-259. 

Chipmunk,  224. 

Choconia,  14,  81,  88,  92,  99,  124, 
128,  129,  228,  261,  271,  272  ;  Lake, 
106,146;  Mountain,  52,  106,  119, 
123,  125,  131,  15«),  215,  220,  260, 
262 ;  River,  106,  146, 

Ciboux  Islands,  28, 

Cobequid  mountains,  5,  68,  80. 

Cormorant,  45,  46,  104, 

Cornwallis  River,  6  ;  Valley,  4. 

Crossbill,  red,  60,  100,  207,  241  ; 
white,  99,  125, 

Crow,  46,  47,  97,  98,  120,  126,  135, 
192,  193,  199,  210,  216,  223,  234, 
240  242  245 

Cuckoo,  bla'ck-billed,  124, 125, 188. 

Digby,  2. 

Dike,  4,  5, 6,  8,  79. 

Dog,  227. 

liragon  fly,  238, 

Duck,  223 ;  dusky,  104 ;  golden-eye, 


I 


276 


INDEX, 


'■\ 


104  ;  mer^nser,  red  -  breasted, 
103 ;  old  squaw,  101 ;  wood,  219, 
222,  223. 

EaRle,  84,  85,  96,  127,  199,  209. 
Elm,  231,  242. 

Englishtown,  21,  22,  07,  103. 
Euphrasia  afficmiUis,  82. 
Evangeline,  land  of,  1. 
Evening  primrose,  142. 
Eyebright,  82. 

Finch,  207,  217. 

Pireweed,  2,  220. 

Fly,  150,  169,  209. 

Flycatcher,  great-crested,  99,  124, 
128,  191;  least,  99,  269;  olive- 
sided,  99 ;  yellow-breasted,  2G6. 

Fox,  220,  222,  223. 

French  Biver,  27,  29,  31. 

Gaspereaux  River,  3-6,  80. 

Olcoscap,  76. 

Goldenrod,  45,  220. 

Goldfinch,  99,  123,  241. 

Goshawk,  63,  64. 

Grand  Narrows,  13-15,  68. 

Grand  Prt^,  4-7,  80,  93. 

Great  Hill,  220. 

Grr'^e,  217. 

Grosbeak,  pine,  207,  239,  242,  243, 

245 ;  red-breasted,  124. 
Grouse,   CiUKidn,  103;    rutfed,   103, 

189   193  233 
Gull,  herring,  104,  120,  208,  217,  223. 
Gypsum,  42,  99 ;  fibrous,  81. 

Habitant  River,  6. 

Halifax,  8,  9,  11,  14,  56. 

Hare,  221. 

Harlaw,  56,  57. 

Hawk,  63,  120,  193,  199,  206,   208, 

209 ;  Cooper's,  96, 106,  120  ;  marsh, 

89,    96  ;    red  -  shouldered,     100  ; 

sharp-shinned,  126,  191 ;  sparrow, 

96. 
Hemlock,  35,  44,  63,  106,  131,  193, 

213. 
Heron,  blue,  3,  15,  68,  104,  217. 
Hobblebush,  63. 
Hornet,  150,  151,  269. 
Humming-bird,  94, 102, 129, 131-155, 

188,  206,  217,  229,  230,  249,  260- 

273. 

Inchworra,  238. 

Indian    Brook,  27,   28,   58,  60,  61, 

64,  65,  06,  102,  103 ;  Falls,  63,  64, 

91. 
Indigo  Bird,  129. 


Ingonish,  24,  31,  34,  37,  38,  55-58, 

82,  88,  97-100,  103,  104. 
Isle  au  Haut,  79. 

Jav  blue,  90,  97,  120,  130,  135,  193, 
216,  222,  234,  239,  245 ;  Can- 

au     90,  SI,  97. 
Jelly     )i,  14. 
Junco,  22,  60,  82,  88,  95,  102,  123- 

125,  207,  222,  243,  245,  209. 
Juniper,  63,  189,  243. 

Kentville,  3,  6,  77. 

Kingbird,  98,  99,  124.  188,  216. 

Kingfisher,  18,  26,  64,  84,  95,  124, 

232. 
Kinglet,  ruby-crowned,  89,  129,  187, 

233  ;  golden-crested,  238, 241, 242, 

245. 
Kiugsport,  77,  78. 

Larch,  2,  21,83,  89,  91,  131. 

Larkspur,  249. 

Loch  Ainslie,  17,  19,  20,  83,  84,  87, 

92,  101,  102,  273 ;  o'  Law,  17, 18, 

82,  95,  104. 
Logcock,  121,  122,  213. 
Look-off,  6-8,  79,  80. 
Loon,  18,  104,  191. 

Maple,  44,  63,   131,   132,  146,  150, 

151   154  265. 
Margaree,'  16-20, 83,  88,  92, 100, 101, 

273. 
Marston  Hill,  220. 
Mert>"nsia  viaritiina,  25. 
Meteghan,  2. 
Micmac,  08,  70. 
Middle  Head,  38,  40-43,  45,  47,  56, 

98,  104. 
Middle  River,  95,  96, 100. 
Milkweed,  221. 
Minas,  Basin  of,  1,  4-8,  35,  69,  75- 

81   93  94. 
Moosebi'rd,  90,  91,  97. 
Mountain  Ash,  63. 

Nasturtium,  138, 167. 
Newfoundland,  21,  37,  41,  61,  66, 

57,  59. 
Nighthawk,  94,  129,  192,  215. 
North  Mountain,  1,  2,  4,  6,  7. 
North  River,  21,07. 
North  Shore,  23,  33,  59. 
Nova  Scotia,  1,  8,  10,  14,  79,  98. 
Nuthatch,  red-breasted,  88, 129, 130, 

213,  241 ;  white,  88,  129,  213. 

Oak,  red,  141, 145, 154. 
Orchid,  19. 


""""""^^ 


INDEX, 


277 


Oriole,  100,  129,  231 ;  orcl  ,rd,  233. 

Oiprey,  DO. 

Owl,  208,  209,  214,  216,  221 ;  Aca- 
dian, 128,  170,  181,  187,  188,  198  ; 
barred,  100-132, 147, 176,  177, ISO- 
ISO,  190-197,  199-205,  225-228, 
235,  23<5,  245;  great-horned,  97, 
170,  181,  183,  180,  194-19(5,  199, 
203,  234;  long-eared,  170,  178, 
181,  190;  screecli,  147,  148,  170, 
178,  179,  181,  180,  188,  190,  198, 
203,  244,  245 ;  snowy,  97,  170,  ISO- 
ISO,  188-190,  194-198,  201-203. 

Parrsboro,  69,  70,  72-77. 

Partridge  Island,  74,  75,  77,  78. 

Partridge,  spruce,  103. 

Paugus,  99. 

Peep,  .3. 

Pareaux,  7,  77,  79,   93;   River,  5, 

6. 
Pewee  99  255 
Pine,  20,  40,  47,  03,  98, 99,  212,  237, 

242,243. 
Pine  siskin,  82,  193,  :M7,  241. 
Point  Aconi,  30,  35. 
Poplar,  03,  151,  157,  158,  228. 
Porcupine,  58. 
Port  Royal,  2,  3. 
Prince  Edward  Island,  84,  85. 
Privet,  239. 
Purple  finch,  89, 123,  233,  241. 

Raven,  34,  45-47,  97,  98. 
Redpoll  linnet,  130,  207,  241. 
Robin,  83,   89,   101,   102,   117,  122, 

128,231,245. 
Rose,  45. 

Salmon,  18,  59,  62. 

Sandpiper,  least,  104 ;  semlpalmated, 
104  ;  solitary,  104,  191,  192 ;  spot- 
ted, 83,  85-87. 

Sapsucker,  101,  100,  121,  131-175, 
188,  198,  2:^,  228-230,  200-203, 
205,  2(i0,  209-273. 

Rivin,  243. 

Scots ville,  !)2. 

Sliag,  45,  40,  104. 

Shagbark,  201. 

Snipe,  233. 

Snow  bunting,  207,  241, 

South  Mountain,  1,  7. 

Sparrow,  207,  208,  211,  210,  217; 
chipping,  99;  English,  217,  223; 
field,  123;  fox,  233;  savanna, 
100  ;  Rong,  82,  100,  188,  224,  225, 
231-233;  swamp,  1(K) ;  vesiHir,  82, 
123;  wliite-ornwnnd,  Vi\:  wliite- 
throated,  82,  88,  123-125,  207. 


Springhill,  09-71. 

Spruce,  2,  3,  15,  25,  2C,  34,  35,  44, 
59,  60,  03,  05,  74,  75,  82,  83,  85, 
125,  198,  231.  ' 

Squirrel,  04,  219,  229. 

Starling,  100. 

St.  Anne's  Bay,  21-23,  25,  26,  35, 41, 
07.  s;j.  »     »     .     .     t 

St.  Mary's  Baj',  1,  2. 

St.  Pierre,  44,  59. 

Strawberries,  13,  21. 

S;unac,  249. 

Swallow,  bank,  93;    bam,  92,  123, 

215,  210,  249,  2.55 ;  eaves,  92,  93. 
Swift  River  Valley,  198. 
Sycamore,  251. 
Sydney,  13,  20,  35. 

Tanager,  120,  191,  211. 

Tern,  24,  40,  104,  208,  210. 

Thrush,  211,  210,  233;  brown,  83, 
117,  123;  gray-oheeked,  83;  her- 
mit,  83,  120,  122,  140,  193,  211, 
212,  233,  209;  Swainson's,  83,  122, 

127,  193;  veery,  83,  122,  188,  249. 
Tracadie,  (iS. 

Trout,  20,  39,  59,  84,  95,  221-223. 
Trout  Brook,  83-85,  87. 
Trumpet-tlower,  143. 
Truro,  80. 

Vireo,  red-eyed,  99,  117,  120,  123, 

128,  141,  188,  214,  210 ;  solitary, 
99,  123,  125,  191,  214 ;  warbling, 
214 ;  yellow-throated,  214. 

Warbler,  211,  210 ;  bay -breasted,  92, 
210  ;  black  and  white,  82,  89,  125, 
141,  200;  black  and  yellow,  89, 
91, 125  ;  Blackbumian,  91 ;  black- 
poll,  92,  125,  210 ;  black-throated 
blue,  91 ;  black-throated  green, 
89,  125 ;  Canadian  fly-catching, 
91,  12.5,  210;  chestnut-sided,  92, 
125;  Maryland,  91,  100,  2J.1; 
Nashville,  K'J  ;  pine-creeping,  92; 
redstart,  91,  VIT,,  210,  230;  sum- 
iimr  yellow,  91  ;  yellow  redpoll, 
S»2;  yellow-runiped,  82,  89,  210; 
parula,  92,  100,  210;  Wilson's 
black-cap,  92  ;  mourning,  92  •, 
oven-bird,  92,  117,  120,  126. 

Wasp,  144,  152. 

Water  thruHh,  23.3. 

Whippoorwill,  <M,  129,  192,  217. 

Wliycocomagh,  17,  20. 

Willow,  0,  54,  198,  231. 

Wolf,  220. 

Wolfville,  3,  4. 

Wuodcuck,  103,  217,  233. 


278 


INDEX. 


Woodpecker,  216,  233  ;  downy,  101, 
121,  140,  14G,  164,  165,  229,  261, 
266;  hairy,  101,  121  ;  flicker,  89, 
101,  102,  117,  121,  239,  245;  pile- 
ated,  101,  121,  122,  213;  three- 
tued,  07, 101, 102 ;  yellow-breaated, 
101, 106, 121, 131-176, 188, 198, 212, 


228-230,  260-263,  265,  266,  269- 

273. 
Wren,  213 ;  winter,  129,  214. 
Wren  orchard,  237,  242,  243. 

Yarmouth,  1,  14. 
Yellow-legs,  iG,  lOi, 


59- 


